Eames, when he was half way up to London in the railway carriage, took out from his pocket a letter and read it. During the former portion of his journey he had been thinking of other things; but gradually he had resolved that it would be better for him not to think more of those other things for the present, and therefore he had recourse to his letter by way of dissipating his thoughts. It was from Cradell, and ran as follows:—
 

    Income-Tax Office, May —, 186—.

    My dear John,—I hope the tidings which I have to give you will not make you angry, and that you will not think I am untrue to the great friendship which I have for you because of that which I am now going to tell you. There is no man—[and the word man was underscored]—there is no man whose regard I value so highly as I do yours; and though I feel that you can have no just ground to be displeased with me after all that I have heard you say on many occasions, nevertheless, in matters of the heart it is very hard for one person to understand the sentiments of another, and when the affections of a lady are concerned, I know that quarrels will sometimes arise.
    

Eames, when he had got so far as this, on the first perusal of the letter, knew well what was to follow. "Poor Caudle!" he said to himself; "he\'s hooked, and he\'ll never get himself off the hook again."
 

    But let that be as it may, the matter has now gone too far for any alteration to be made by me; nor would any mere earthly inducement suffice to change me. The claims of friendship are very strong, but those of love are paramount. Of course I know all that has passed between you and Amelia Roper. Much of this I had heard from you before, but the rest she has now told me with that pure-minded honesty which is the most remarkable feature in her character. She has confessed that at one time she felt attached to you, and that she was induced by your perseverance to allow you to regard her as your fiancy. [Fancy-girl he probably conceived to be the vulgar English for the elegant term which he used.] But all that must be over between you now. Amelia has promised to be mine—[this also was underscored]—and mine I intend that she shall be. That you may find in the kind smiles of L. D. consolation for any disappointment which this may occasion you, is the ardent wish of your true friend,

    Joseph Cradell.

    P.S.—Perhaps I had better tell you the whole. Mrs. Roper has been in some trouble about her house. She is a little in arrears with her rent, and some bills have not been paid. As she explained that she has been brought into this by those dreadful Lupexes I have consented to take the house into my own hands, and have given bills to one or two tradesmen for small amounts. Of course she will take them up, but it was the credit that was wanting. She will carry on the house, but I shall, in fact, be the proprietor. I suppose it will not suit you now to remain here, but don\'t you think I might make it comfortable enough for some of our fellows; say half-a-dozen, or so? That is Mrs. Roper\'s idea, and I certainly think it is not a bad one. Our first efforts must be to get rid of the Lupexes. Miss Spruce goes next week. In the meantime we are all taking our meals up in our own rooms, so that there is nothing for the Lupexes to eat. But they don\'t seem to mind that, and still keep the sitting-room and best bedroom. We mean to lock them out after Tuesday, and send all their boxes to the public-house.
    

Poor Cradell! Eames, as he threw himself back upon his seat and contemplated the depth of misfortune into which his friend had fallen, began to be almost in love with his own position. He himself was, no doubt, a very miserable fellow. There was only one thing in life worth living for, and that he could not get. He had been thinking for the last three days of throwing himself before a locomotive steam-engine, and was not quite sure that he would not do it yet; but, nevertheless, his place was a place among the gods as compared to that which poor Cradell had selected for himself. To be not only the husband of Amelia Roper, but to have been driven to take upon himself as his bride\'s fortune the whole of his future mother-in-law\'s debts! To find himself the owner of a very indifferent lodging-house;—the owner as regarded all responsibility, though not the owner as regarded any possible profit! And then, above and almost worse than all the rest, to find himself saddled with the Lupexes in the beginning of his career! Poor Cradell indeed!

Eames had not taken his things away from the lodging-house before he left London, and therefore determined to drive to Burton Crescent immediately on his arrival, not with the intention of remaining there, even for a night, but that he might bid them farewell, speak his congratulations to Amelia, and arrange for his final settlement with Mrs. Roper. It should have been explained in the last chapter that the earl had told him before parting with him that his want of success with Lily would make no difference as regarded money. John had, of course, expostulated, saying that he did not want anything, and would not, under his existing circumstances, accept anything; but the earl was a man who knew how to have his own way, and in this matter did have it. Our friend, therefore, was a man of wealth when he returned to London, and could tell Mrs. Roper that he would send her a cheque for her little balance as soon as he reached his office.

He arrived in the middle of the day,—not timing his return at all after the usual manner of Government clerks, who generally manage to reach the metropolis not more than half an hour before the moment at which they are bound to show themselves in their seats. But he had come back two days before he was due, and had run away from the country as though London in May to him were much pleasanter than the woods and fields. But neither had London nor the woods and fields any influence on his return. He had gone down that he might throw himself at the feet of Lily Dale,—gone down, as he now confessed to himself, with hopes almost triumphant, and he had returned because Lily Dale would not have him at her feet. "I loved him,—him, Crosbie,—better than all the world besides. It is still the same. I still love him better than all the world." Those were the words which had driven him back to London; and having been sent away with such words as those, it was little matter to him whether he reached his office a day or two sooner or later. The little room in the city, even with the accompaniment of Sir Raffle\'s bell and Sir Raffle\'s voice, would be now more congenial to him than Lady Julia\'s drawing-room. He would therefore present himself to Sir Raffle on that very afternoon, and expel some interloper from his seat. But he would first call in Burton Crescent and say farewell to the Ropers.

The door was opened for him by the faithful Jemima. "Mr. Heames, Mr. Heames! ho dear, ho dear!" and the poor girl, who had always taken his side in the adventures of the lodging-house, raised her hands on high and lamented the fate which had separated her favourite from its fortunes. "I suppose you knows it all, Mister Johnny?" Mister Johnny said that he believed he did know it all, and asked for the mistress of the house. "Yes, sure enough, she\'s at home. She don\'t dare stir out much, \'cause of them Lupexes. Ain\'t this a pretty game? No dinner and no nothink! Them boxes is Miss Spruce\'s. She\'s agoing now, this minute. You\'ll find \'em all upstairs in the drawen-room." So upstairs into the drawing-room he went, and there he found the mother and daughter, and with them Miss Spruce, tightly packed up in her bonnet and shawl. "Don\'t, mother," Amelia was saying; "what\'s the good of going on in that way? If she chooses to go, let her go."

"But she\'s been with me now so many years," said Mrs. Roper, sobbing; "and I\'ve always done everything for her! Haven\'t I, now, Sally Spruce?" It struck Eames immediately that, though he had been an inmate in the house for two years, he had never before heard that maiden lady\'s Christian name. Miss Spruce was the first to see Eames as he entered the room. It is probable that Mrs. Roper\'s pathos might have produced some answering pathos on her part had she remained unobserved, but the sight of a young man brought her back to her usual state of quiescence. "I\'m only an old woman," said she; "and here\'s Mr. Eames come back again."

"How d\'ye do, Mrs. Roper? how d\'ye do,—Amelia? how d\'ye do, Miss Spruce?" and he shook hands with them all.

"Oh, laws," said Mrs. Roper, "you have given me such a start!"

"Dear me, Mr. Eames; only think of your coming back in that way," said Amelia.

"Well, what way should I come back? You didn\'t hear me knock at the door, that\'s all. So Miss Spruce is really going to leave you?"

"Isn\'t it dreadful, Mr. Eames? Nineteen years we\'ve been together;—taking both houses together, Miss Spruce, we have, indeed." Miss Spruce, at this point, struggled very hard to convince John Eames that the period in question had in truth extended over only eighteen years, but Mrs. Roper was authoritative, and would not permit it. "It\'s nineteen years if it\'s a day. No one ought to know dates if I don\'t, and there isn\'t one in the world understands her ways unless it\'s me. Haven\'t I been up to your bedroom every night, and with my own hand given you—" But she stopped herself, and was too good a woman to declare before a young man what had been the nature of her nightly ministrations to her guest.

"I don\'t think you\'ll be so comfortable anywhere else, Miss Spruce," said Eames.

"Comfortable! of course she won\'t," said Amelia. "But if I was mother I wouldn\'t have any more words about it."

"It isn\'t the money I\'m thinking of, but the feeling of it," said Mrs. Roper. "The house will be so lonely like. I shan\'t know myself; that I shan\'t. And now that things are all settled so pleasantly, and that the Lupexes must go on Tuesday— I\'ll tell you what, Sally; I\'ll pay for the cab myself, and I\'ll start off to Dulwich by the omnibus to-morrow, and settle it all out of my own pocket. I will indeed. Come; there\'s the cab. Let me go down, and send him away."

"I\'ll do that," said Eames. "It\'s only sixpence, off the stand," Mrs. Roper called to him as he left the room. But the cabman got a shilling, and John, as he returned, found Jemima in the act of carrying Miss Spruce\'s boxes back to her room. "So much the better for poor Caudle," said he to himself. "As he has gone into the trade it\'s well that he should have somebody that will pay him."

Mrs. Roper followed Miss Spruce up the stairs and Johnny was left with Amelia. "He\'s written to you, I know," said she, with her face turned a little away from him. She was certainly very handsome, but there was a hard, cross, almost sullen look about her, which robbed her countenance of all its pleasantness. And yet she had no intention of being sullen with him.

"Yes," said John. "He has told me how it\'s all going to be."

"Well?" she said.

"Well?" said he.

"Is that all you\'ve got to say?"

"I\'ll congratulate you, if you\'ll let me."

"Psha;—congratulations! I hate such humbug. If you\'ve no feelings about it, I\'m sure that I\'ve none. Indeed I don\'t know what\'s the good of feelings. They never did me any good. Are you engaged to marry L. D.?"

"No, I am not."

"And you\'ve nothing else to say to me?"

"Nothing,—except my hopes for your ............