Miss Brancker had told her brother that, whether he liked it or no, she should insist on his taking a month's holiday before he even began to look for another situation, and at the time she quite believed in her power to make him to do so. It was not as if he could not afford a holiday, for he had between three and four hundred pounds put away, which he had saved up month by month, a little at a time, out of his salary. But John in a situation and John out of one were two very different people. To have taken a holiday under his present circumstances would, to his thrifty notions, have seemed both a waste of time and a waste of money. Instead of enjoying himself he would simply have "grizzled," to use his own term, and would have come back worse in health, both of mind and body, then he went. Even Miss Brancker, after a day or two, was compelled to admit that it would be useless to press the point further.

John did not lose much time in setting about looking for something to do. His first proceeding was to call on Mr. Umpleby, the chief partner and manager of the Dulminster Bank, to whom he was personally known as one of Mr. Avison's most trusted officials.

No one could have received him more kindly than Mr. Umpleby received him, to whom, of course, all the facts connected with the trial and verdict were well known. While John went on to unfold, which he did without reserve, his reasons for sending in his resignation, the Banker simply interjected an occasional "Ah! yes," or "Just so," or "I quite understand," but was careful to commit himself to no opinion in the case either one way or the other. John had told him frankly at the beginning of the interview with what purpose he had sought him, and Mr. Umpleby now went on to explain that, highly as he thought of Mr. Brancker's business abilities, and greatly as he esteemed his personal character, he was afraid it was out of his power to do anything for him in the way he, Mr. Brancker, seemed to have half-expected he could do. In the first place, at the present time there was no vacancy of any kind in the Bank staff; and, in the second, even had there been a vacancy worthy of Mr. Brancker's acceptance, it would scarcely have been right and fair, as Mr. Brancker would doubtless be the first to admit, not to have filled it up from the ranks of the more subordinate members of their own staff, among whom, Mr. Umpleby was sorry to say, the chances of promotion were by no means so frequent as he would have liked them to be. This latter was a point which it was impossible for John to contend against: in a similar position he would have acted in a similar way. He came away with his hopes a little dashed, and feeling much less sanguine about his future than he had hitherto done.

The next thing he did was to advertise in the local newspaper for a situation, but although the advertisement appeared for three consecutive weeks, it elicited no response whatever. Then John fell back on the London dailies, or rather, on two of them, in which an advertisement, drawn up by him, made its appearance day after day with praiseworthy regularity, while, at the same time, he did not fail to wade through the daily lists of situations vacant. It was a heart-wearying task, as hundreds, nay thousands, of others have proved to their cost. Sometimes he replied to a likely advertisement; occasionally he received an answer to his own. In the majority of cases his age and his lack of general commercial experience proved fatal barriers to success. In other cases, where his acquirements seemed to be the very things advertised for, and after he had been asked to furnish his name and address, together with those of his referees, would come the inevitable question:

"Are you the person who was lately tried on a charge of murder?"

On John's replying in the affirmative, the correspondence would abruptly cease. Heart-wearying work, truly! For the first time in his life John began to despair.

Hitherto no one save his sister and his friend, Mr. Kittaway, had been made the confidants of his many disappointments. The knowledge had been carefully kept from Hermia. He was unwilling that the sunshine of her young life should be overshadowed by ever so faint a cloud, if he could in any way help it. One evening, however, when his heart felt more than commonly sore, and he and Clement Hazeldine happened to be alone together, Miss Brancker and Hermia being out shopping, he could not resist pouring the story of his trials and troubles into the sympathetic ears of the young surgeon. Sympathy, of course, was all the latter could give in return, and John asked for nothing more.

A few days later, Clem made it in his way to call upon his brother at Beecham. His chief object in doing so was to tell him of his engagement to Hermia, but he determined to mention John Brancker's case at the same time, knowing how fully convinced Edward was of the latter's innocence.

Clem found Edward in his office, and was glad to see how much better he was looking than he had looked during the two months immediately following their father's death.

After a little conversation, having reference chiefly to Mrs. Hazeldine and her affairs, Clem said, a faint flush dyeing his cheeks the while:

"And now I've an item of news to tell you which may, or may not, interest you. I am engaged to be married."

Edward gave vent to a low whistle. "May I ask the lady's name?"

"Miss Hermia Rivers. I don't think you are acquainted with her, but you may, perhaps, have heard of her existence. She is niece to John Brancker, and lives with him at Nairn Cottage."

Edward Hazeldine's jaw dropped a little, and he sat staring at his brother for a few moments without speaking. "John Brancker's niece!" he exclaimed presently, but not as if addressing himself to Clem.

"What is there to be surprised at, may I ask?" queried the latter, with just a shade of annoyance in his voice.

"Has the young lady any dowry--any fortune of her own?"

"Not one penny," was Clem's emphatic reply.

"Hum! That's rather a pity, is it not, when there are so many well-to-do young ladies in Ashdown--you know how scarce eligible men are in these small provincial towns--among whom, and I say it with no wish to flatter you, you might have your pick and choice."

"That may or may not be the case, but seeing that there is not one among the young ladies in question whom I have any wish to make my wife, there is no need to drag them into the question."

"I was not aware that you were in a position to marry," said Edward, coldly; "that is to say, to marry anyone who has nothi............