it was probably not without a certain amount of consideration and circumspection that john calverley had fixed upon hendon as the place in which to establish his second home, to which to take the pretty trusting girl who believed herself to be his wife. it was a locality in which she could live retired, and in which there was very little chance of his being recognised. it offered no advantages to gentlemen engaged in the city--it was not accessible by either boat, 'bus, or rail; the pony-carriages of the inhabitants were for the most part confined to a radius of four miles in their journeys, and davis's coach and the carrier's wagon were the sole means of communication with the metropolis.

also, in his quiet, undemonstrative way, mr. calverley had taken occasion to make himself acquainted with the names, social position, and antecedents of all the inhabitants, and to ascertain the chances of their ever having seen or heard of him, which he found on inquiry were very remote. they were for the most part hendon born and bred, and the few settlers amongst them were retired tradesmen, who had some connection with the place, and who were not likely, from the nature of the business they had pursued while engaged in commerce, to have become acquainted with the person, or even to have heard the name of the head of the firm in mincing-lane. about the doctor and the clergyman, as being the persons with whom he would most likely be brought into contact, he was specially curious. but his anxiety was appeased on learning that mr. broadbent was of a devonshire family, and had practised in the neighbourhood of tavistock previous to his purchase of old doctor fleeme's practice; while the vicar, mr. tomlinson, after leaving oxford, had gone to a curacy near durham, whence he had been transferred to hendon.

so, when he had decided upon the house, and alice had taken possession of it, john calverley congratulated himself on having settled her down in a place where not merely he was unknown, but where the spirit of inquisitiveness was unknown also. he heard of no gossiping, no inquiries as to who they were, or where they had come from. comments, indeed, upon the disparity of years between the married couple reached his ears; but that he was prepared for, and did not mind, so long as alice was loving and true to him. what cared he how often the world called him old, and wondered at her choice?

it must be confessed that concerning the amount of gossip talked about him and his household, john calverley was very much deceived. the people of hendon was not different from the people of any other place, and though they lived remote from the world, they were just as fond of talking about the affairs of their neighbours as fashionable women round the tea-table in their boudoirs, or fashionable men in the smoking-room of their clubs. they discussed mrs. a.'s tantrums and mrs. b.'s stinginess, the doctor's wife's jealousy, and the parson's wife's airs; all each others' shortcomings were regularly gone through, and it was not likely that the household at rose cottage would be suffered to escape. on the contrary, it was a standing topic, and a theme for infinite discussion. not that there was the smallest doubt amongst the neighbours as to the propriety of alice's conduct, or the least question about her being the old gentleman's wife, but the mere fact of mr. claxton's being an old gentleman, and having such a young and pretty wife, excited a vast amount of talk; and when it was found that mr. claxton's business caused him to be constantly absent from home, there was no end to the speculation as to what that absence might not give rise. there seemed to be some sort of notion among the inhabitants that alice would some day be carried bodily away, and many an innocent artist with his sketch-book in his breast-pocket, looking about him in search of a subject, has been put down by miss m'craw and her friends as a dangerous character, full of desperate designs upon mr. claxton's domestic happiness.

miss m'craw was a lady who took great interest in her neighbours' affairs, having but few of her own to attend to, and being naturally of an excitable and inquiring disposition, she had made many advances towards alice, which had not been very warmly reciprocated, and the consequence was that miss m'craw devoted a large portion of her time to espionage over the rose cottage establishment, and to commenting on what she gleaned in a very vicious spirit. early in the year in which the village was startled by the news of mr. claxton's death, miss m'craw was entertaining two or three of her special friends at tea in her little parlour, from the window of which she could command a distant view of the rose cottage garden gate, when the conversation, which had been somewhat flagging, happened to turn upon alice, and thenceforth was carried on briskly.

'now, my dear,' said miss m'craw, in pursuance of an observation she had previously made, 'we shall see whether he comes back again to-day. this is wednesday, is it not? well, he has been here for the last three wednesdays, always just about the same time, between six and seven o'clock, and always doing the same thing.'

'who is he? and what is it all about, martha?' asked mrs. gannup, who had only just arrived, and who had been going through the ceremony known as 'taking off her things' in the little back parlour, while the previous conversation had been carried on.

'o, you were not here, mrs. gannup, and didn't hear what i said,' said miss m'craw. 'i was mentioning to these ladies that for the last three wednesdays there has come a strange gentleman to our village, quite a gentleman too, riding on horseback, and with a groom behind him, well-dressed, and really,' added miss m'craw, with a simper, 'quite good-looking!'

she was the youngest of the party, being not more than forty-three years old, and in virtue of her youth was occasionally given to giggling and blushing in an innocent and playful manner.

'never mind his good looks, martha,' said one of the ladies, in an admonitory tone, 'tell mrs. gannup what you saw him do.'

'always the same,' said miss m'craw. 'he always leaves the groom at some distance behind him, and rides up by the side of the claxtons' hedge, and sits on his horse staring over into their garden. if you wind up that old music-stool to the top of its screw,' continued the innocent damsel, 'and put it into that corner of the window, and move the bird-cage, by climbing on to it you can see a bit of the claxtons' lawn; and each time that i have seen this gentleman coming up the hill i have put the stool like that and looked out. twice mrs. claxton was on the lawn, but directly she saw the man staring at her she ran into the house.'

'who,' said mrs. gannup, 'who is she that she should not be looked at as well as anybody else? i hate such mock modesty!'

'and what i was saying before you came in, dear,' cried miss m'craw, who fully agreed with the sentiment just enunciated, 'was, that this being wednesday, perhaps he will come again to-day. i fixed our little meeting for to-night, in order that you might all be here to see him in case he should come. it is strange, to say the least of it, that a young man should come for three weeks running and stare in at a garden belonging to people whom he does not know, at least, whom i suppose he does not know, for he has never made an attempt to go to the front gate to be let in.'

'there is something about these claxtons--' said mrs. gannup.

and the worthy lady was not permitted to finish her sentence, for miss m'craw, springing up from her chair, cried, 'there he is again, i declare, and punctual to the time i told you. now bring the music-stool, quick!'

her visitors crowded round the window, and saw a tall man with a long fair beard ride up to the hedge of the claxtons' garden, as had been described by miss m'craw, rein-in his horse, and stand up in his stirrups to look over the hedge.

so far the programme had been carried out exactly, to the intense delight of the on-lookers.

'tell us,' cried mrs. gannup to miss m'craw, who was mounted on a music-stool, 'tell us, is she in the garden?'

'she! no,' cried miss m'craw, from her coigne of vantage, 'she is not, but he is. mr. claxton is walking up and down the lawn with his hands behind his back, and directly the man on horseback saw him he ducked down. see, he is off already!'

and as she spoke the rider turned his horse's head, and, followed by his groom, cantered slowly away.

when he had gone for about a mile he reduced his horse's pace to a walk, and sitting back in his saddle, indulged in a low, noiseless, chuckling laugh.

'it was john calverley; no doubt about that,' he said to himself. 'i thought it was he a fortnight ago, but this time i am sure of it. fancy that sedate old fellow, so highly thought of in the city, one of the pillars of british commerce, as they call him, spending his spare time in that pretty box with that lovely creature. from the glance i had of her at the window just now she seems as bewitching as ever. what a life for her, to be relegated to the society of an old fogey like that!--old enough to be her father, at the very least, and knowing nothing except about subjects in which she can scarcely be expected to take much interest. not much even of that society, i should say; for old calverley still continues to live with his wife in walpole-street, and can only come out here occasionally, of course. what a dull time she must have of it, this pretty bird! how she must long for some companionship! for instance, that of a man more of her own age, who has travelled, and who knows the world, and can amuse her, and treat her as she ought to be treated.'

thus communing with himself, the good-looking, light-bearded gentleman rode on towards london, crossing the top of hampstead heath, and making his way by a narrow path, little frequented, but apparently well known to him, into the finchley-road. there, close by the swiss cottage, he was joined by another equestrian; a gentleman equally well mounted and almost equally good-looking. this gentleman stared very much as he saw the first-named rider pass by the end of the side-road up which he was passing, and sticking spurs into his horse quickly came up with him.

'my dear wetter,' he cried, after they had exchanged salutations, 'what an extraordinary fellow you are! you have still got the chestnut thoroughbred, i see; do you continue to like him?'

'i still have the chestnut thoroughbred, and i continue to like him,' said mr. wetter with a smile, 'though why i am an extraordinary fellow for that i am at a loss to perceive.'

'not for that, of course,' said his friend; 'that was merely said par parenthèse. you are an extraordinary fellow because one never sees you in the park, or in any place of that sort, and because one finds you riding alone here, evidently on your way back from some outlandish place in the north-west. after grinding away in the city, and wearying your brain, as you must do, with your enormous business, one would think you would like a little relaxation.'

'it is precisely because i do grind away all the day in the city, i do weary my brain, i do want a little relaxation, that you do not see me in the park, where i should have to ride up and down that ghastly row, and talk nonsense to the fribbles and the fools i meet there. it is precisely in search of the relaxation you speak of that i ride out to the north-west or the south-east; it little matters to me where, so long as i can find fresh air and green trees, and the absence of my fellow-creatures.'

'you are polite, by jove,' said his friend with a laugh, 'considering that i have just joined you.'

'o, i don't mean you, lingard,' said mr. wetter; 'my ride is over for the day. when i reach the turnpike yonder, i look upon myself as within the confines of civilisation, and behave myself accordingly.'

'you certainly are a very extraordinary fellow,' said mr. lingard, who was one of those gushing creatures whom nothing could silence. 'they were talking of you only yesterday at the darnley club.'

'indeed,' said wetter, without betraying the slightest interest in his manner; 'and what were they pleased to say of me?'

'they were saying what a wonderful fellow you were, considering that whereas, three years ago, you had scarcely been heard of in london, you had made such a fortune and held such a leading position.'

'yes,' said mr. wetter, with a pleasant smile; 'they said that, did they?'

'what mr. sleiner wondered was, that you did not get yourself made a baronet, like those other fellows.'

'ah, that was sleiner,' said mr. wetter, still with his smile.

'and mopkinson said you would not care about that. he believed you intended to marry a woman of high family.'

'ah, that was mopkinson,' said mr. wetter, still smiling.

'podlinbury said marriage was not in your way at all, and then they all laughed.'

'did podlinbury say that?' said mr. wetter, grinning from ear to ear. 'now i really cannot conceive what should have made them all laugh.'

'i cannot imagine myself,' said mr. lingard, 'and i told them so, and then they all roared worse than ever.'

'let me make amends for your having been laughed at on my account, my dear lingard, by asking you to dinner. come and dine with me at the club to-night. we shall have time to wash our hands and to get to table by half-past eight.'

'no, not to-night, thanks,' said mr. lingard; 'i am engaged, and i must push on, by the way, for i dine at eight. shall we meet on friday?'

'friday! where?'

'at the house of one of your city magnates. you know him, i suppose--mr. calverley?'

'mr. calverley! is there a dinner at his house in great walpole-street on friday?'

'o, yes,' said mr. lingard; 'a grand spread, i should imagine. a case of fortnight's invitation. sorry you are not going; thought i should be sure to meet you there. ta, ta!' and the young man kissed his hand in adieu and cantered away.

'that's a delightful young creature,' said mr. wetter to himself, as he watched his friend's departing figure. 'if there were only a few more like him in the city, it would not take me long to complete that fortune which i am piling together. with what frankness and innocence he repeats all that is said about one by one's friends; and how refreshingly he confides to one everything concerning himself, even to his dinner-engagements. by the way, that reminds me of that dinner-party at calverley's on friday. at that dinner-party calverley will necessarily be present. friday would not be a bad day, therefore, for me to ride up again to hendon, make some excuse for calling at the nest, and see if i can manage to get a sight of the bird. i will make a mem. to that effect when i go in.'

the world was right in declaring mr. wetter to be a very wealthy man. he was the second partner in, and english representative of, the great vienna banking-house of wetter and stutterheim, with branches in paris, london, frankfort, and new york. he came to london quite unknown, save to a few of his countrymen; but he was speedily spoken of as a man of immense capacity, and as a financier of the first rank. perfectly steady-going people were wetter and stutterheim, doing a straight-forward banking and agency business, with its quintupled operations, based upon the principles laid down by the old house of krebs et cie. to whom they had succeeded. wetter and stutterheim smiled with scorn at the wonderful schemes which were daily brought forward upon the stock exchange, and at the status and supposed success of the persons by whom they were 'promoted' and 'financiered.' they knew well enough how those matters were worked, and knew, too, what was generally the fate of those involved in them. wetter and stutterheim were quite content with the state of their balance on the thirty-first of every december, and content with the status which they occupied in the eyes of the chief merchant princes of the various cities where their banking business was carried on.

mr. stutterheim managed the parent house in vienna--the parent house, however, did not do a fourth of the business transacted by its london offspring--and only came to london once or twice a year. he was an elderly man, steady and responsible, but did not combine dash and energy with his more solid business qualifications as did mr. henrich wetter, the head of the london house.

mr. wetter lived in pleasant rooms in south audley-street; that is to say, he slept in them, and drank a hurried cup of coffee there in the morning when he did not breakfast at his club; but in general he followed the continental fashion, and took his first meal at about twelve o'clock in his private room at the bank, after he had gone through, and given his instructions upon, the morning's letters. he returned to his lodging to dress for dinner; he dressed always punctiliously, whether he dined in society or by himself at the club, and was seldom out of his bed after midnight. a man whom no one could accuse of any positive excess, who lived strictly within his means, and who was never seen in any disreputable company; yet a man at the mention of whose name in certain society there went round winks and shoulder-shrugs, and men hinted 'that they could, and if they would,' &c. henrich wetter did not pay much attention to these hints, or rather to the men from whom they came. they were not the style of men whose good or bad words were likely to have the smallest influence on his career; his position was far too secure to be affected by anything they might say.

by anything any one might say, for the matter of that. he was full of that thought as he rode home after leaving mr. lingard. he had played his cards well in his wildest dreams, but he had never hoped to climb to the height at which he had actually arrived. wealth? he did not spend a fifth part of his income. his old mother had her villa at kreuznech, where she lived with his sister lisbett, while ernestine was married to domhardt, who, thanks to him and his lent capital, was doing so well as a wine-grower at hochheim. fritz seemed to have settled down at last, and to be establishing for himself a business as domhardt's agent in melbourne. there was no one else of his own blood to support. there were others who had claims on him, but those claims were allowed and provided for, and there was still more money than he knew with what to do. position? not much doubt about that. men of the highest rank in the city allowed his status to be equal to their own; and as to his own house, the other partners had practically acknowledged that he was its backbone and their superior. for instance, when there was that question, a month ago, about the manner in which their new york agency was conducted, to whom did they refer but to him? if rufus p. clamborough had turned out a rogue, he would have had to go out, he thought, to settle the business there. yes, to have the money and to have the position were both pleasant things. to gain them he sacrificed nearly all his life, and certainly he needed some little recreation. what a wonderful pretty girl that was at rose cottage, and how extraordinary that he should have discovered old john calverley there! how lucky, too, that he should have met lingard! the great dinner-party in great walpole-street was to be on friday. on friday, then, he would ride out by hendon once again.

but mr. wetter did not ride out to hendon on friday, as he intended. on that friday night he slept at the adelphi hotel, liverpool, going off in the tender at 8.30 the next morning to the cunard steamer china, lying in the mersey, and not returning to england for nearly six months. on the evening of his meeting mr. lingard, on his arrival at south audley-street, he found a telegram which had been forwarded to him from the city, informing him that rufus p. clamborough had by no means come out as rightly as was anticipated, and that it was imperative that some one should go out at once and look after the new york agency. mr. wetter was, above all things, a man of business, and he knew that that some one was himself, so he packed his portmanteau and went off. and finding an immense deal of business to be done, and life in new york city anything but disagreeable, he remained there until he had placed the affairs of stutterheim and wetter on a satisfactory footing, and then, and not till then, he took ship and came home.

three weeks after mr. wetter's return to england, miss m'craw saw him once again in the hendon lane. it was spring time when she had last seen him, but now it was deep autumn, and the dead leaves were whirling through the air, and being gathered into heaps by the old men employed as scavengers by the parish. miss m'craw was alone in her little parlour, and had no friends to share her watch. nevertheless, she did not allow her attention to be diverted from mr. wetter for an instant. she saw him ride up, followed by his groom, but instead of gazing over the hedge he rode straight to the front gate, over which appeared a painted board announcing the house as to let, and referring possible inquirers to the village agent and to the auctioneers in london.

miss m'craw saw mr. wetter yield up his horse to his groom, dismount, ring the bell, and pass out of her sight up the garden. when he reached the door it was already opened by the servant, who was standing there, to whom he intimated his desire to see the house. the girl asked him into the dining-room, and withdrew. five minutes afterwards the door opened, and pauline entered the room. the sun had set about five minutes previously, and there was, but little daylight left, so little that mr. wetter, glancing at the new comer, thought he must have been deceived, and made a step forward, staring hard at her.

there was something in the movement which put pauline on her mettle instantly.

'may i ask your business?' said she, in a hard, dry tone.

'the voice, the accent--no doubt about it now,' said mr. wetter to himself. then he said aloud, 'i see this house is to let; i ask to be permitted to look over it.'

'the house cannot be seen without a card from the agent in the village, mr. bowles,' said pauline, in her former tone. 'and i may as well remark that mr. bowles will not give a card to every one. he will expect a reference.'

'i shall be very happy to give him one,' said mr. wetter, with a sardonic smile. 'my name is henrich wetter, formerly clerk to monsieur krebs, the banker, of marseilles; and i shall be happy to refer him to an old acquaintance of mine, madame pauline lunelle, dame du comptoir at the restaurant du midi in that city.'