though his reappearance could not be regarded as lying outside

the divine plan. The spirit of evil might have sent him to threaten
Mr. Bulstrode's subversion as an instrument of good; but the threat

must have been permitted, and was a chastisement of a new kind.
It was an hour of anguish for him very different from the hours

in which his struggle had been securely private, and which had
ended with a sense that his secret misdeeds were pardoned and his

services accepted. Those misdeeds even when committed--had they
not been half sanctified by the singleness of his desire to devote

himself and all he possessed to the furtherance of the divine scheme?
And was he after all to become a mere stone of stumbling and a

rock of offence? For who would understand the work within him?
Who would not, when there was the pretext of casting disgrace

upon him, confound his whole life and the truths he had espoused,
in one heap of obloquy?

In his closest meditations the life-long habit of Mr. Bulstrode's
mind clad his most egoistic terrors in doctrinal references

to superhuman ends. But even while we are talking and meditating
about the earth's orbit and the solar system, what we feel and

adjust our movements to is the stable earth and the changing day.
And now within all the automaticsuccession of theoretic phrases--

distinct and inmost as the shiver and the ache of oncoming fever
when we are discussing abstract pain, was the forecast of disgrace

in the presence of his neighbors and of his own wife. For the pain,
as well as the public estimate of disgrace, depends on the amount

of previousprofession. To men who only aim at escaping felony,
nothing short of the prisoner's dock is disgrace. But Mr. Bulstrode

had aimed at being an eminent Christian.
It was not more than half-past seven in the morning when he again

reached Stone Court. The fine old place never looked more like a
delightful home than at that moment; the great white lilies were

in flower, the nasturtiums, their pretty leaves all silvered with dew,
were running away over the low stone wall; the very noises all

around had a heart of peace within them. But everything was spoiled
for the owner as he walked on the gravel in front and awaited

the descent of Mr. Raffles, with whom he was condemned to breakfast.
It was not long before they were seated together in the wainscoted

parlor over their tea and toast, which was as much as Raffles cared
to take at that early hour. The difference between his morning

and evening self was not so great as his companion had imagined
that it might be; the delight in tormenting was perhaps even the

stronger because his spirits were rather less highly pitched.
Certainly his manners seemed more agreeable" target="_blank" title="a.令人不悦的">disagreeable by the morning light.

"As I have little time to spare, Mr. Raffles," said the banker,
who could hardly do more than sip his tea and break his toast

without eating it, "I shall be obliged if you will mention at once
the ground on which you wished to meet with me. I presume that you

have a home elsewhere and will be glad to return to it."
"Why, if a man has got any heart, doesn't he want to see an

old friend, Nick?--I must call you Nick--we always did call you
young Nick when we knew you meant to marry the old widow. Some said

you had a handsome family likeness to old Nick, but that was your
mother's fault, calling you Nicholas. Aren't you glad to see me again?

I expected an invite to stay with you at some pretty place. My own
establishment is broken up now my wife's dead. I've no particular

attachment to any spot; I would as soon settle hereabout as anywhere."
"May I ask why you returned from America? I considered that the strong

wish you expressed to go there, when an adequate sum was furnished,
was tantamount to an engagement that you would remain there for life."

"Never knew that a wish to go to a place was the same thing as a
wish to stay. But I did stay a matter of ten years; it didn't

suit me to stay any longer. And I'm not going again, Nick."
Here Mr. Raffles winked slowly as he looked at Mr. Bulstrode.

"Do you wish to be settled in any business? What is your calling now?"
"Thank you, my calling is to enjoy myself as much as I can.

I don't care about working any more. If I did anything it would be
a little travelling in the tobacco line--or something of that sort,

which takes a man into agreeable company. But not without
an independence to fall back upon. That's what I want: I'm not

so strong as I was, Nick, though I've got more color than you.
I want an independence."

"That could be supplied to you, if you would engage to keep at
a distance," said Mr. Bulstrode, perhaps with a little too much

eagerness in his undertone.
"That must be as it suits my convenience," said Raffles coolly. "I see

no reason why I shouldn't make a few acquaintances hereabout. I'm not
ashamed of myself as company for anybody. I dropped my portmanteau at

the turnpike when I got down--change of linen--genuine--honor bright--
more than fronts and wristbands; and with this suit of mourning,

straps and everything, I should do you credit among the nobs here."
Mr. Raffles had pushed away hit chair and looked down at himself,

particularly at his straps His chief intention was to annoy Bulstrode,
but he really thought that his appearance now would produce

a good effect, and that he was not only handsome and witty,
but clad in a mourning style which implied solid connections.

"If you intend to rely on me in any way, Mr. Raffles," said Bulstrode,
after a moment's pause, "you will expect to meet my wishes."

"Ah, to be sure," said Raffles, with a mocking cordiality.
"Didn't I always do it? Lord, you made a pretty thing out of me,

and I got but little. I've often thought since, I might have done
better by telling the old woman that I'd found her daughter and

her grandchild: it would have suited my feelings better; I've got
a soft place in my heart. But you've buried the old lady by this time,

I suppose--it's all one to her now. And you've got your fortune
out of that profitable business which had such a blessing on it.

You've taken to being a nob, buying land, being a country bashaw.
Still in the Dissenting line, eh? Still godly? Or taken to the Church

as more genteel?"
This time Mr. Raffles' slow wink and slight protrusion of his

tongue was worse than a nightmare, because it held the certitude
that it was not a nightmare, but a waking misery. Mr. Bulstrode

felt a shuddering nausea, and did not speak, but was considering
diligently whether he should not leave Raffles to do as he would,

and simply defy him as a slanderer. The man would soon show
himself disreputable enough to make people disbelieve him.

"But not when he tells any ugly-looking truth about YOU,"
said discerning consciousness. And again: it seemed no wrong to keep

Raffles at a distance, but Mr. Bulstrode shrank from the direct
falsehood of denying true statements. It was one thing to look back on

forgiven sins, nay, to explain questionableconformity to lax customs,
and another to enter deliberately on the necessity of falsehood.

But since Bulstrode did not speak, Raffles ran on, by way of using
time to the utmost.

"I've not had such fine luck as you, by Jove! Things went
confoundedly with me in New York; those Yankees are cool hands,

and a man of gentlemanly feelings has no chance with them. I married
when I came back--a nice woman in the tobacco trade--very fond of me--

but the trade was restricted, as we say. She had been settled
there a good many years by a friend; but there was a son too much

in the case. Josh and I never hit it off. However, I made the most
of the position, and I've always taken my glass in good company.

It's been all on the square with me; I'm as open as the day.
You won't take it ill of me that I didn't look you up before.

I've got a complaint that makes me a little dilatory. I thought you were
trading and praying away in London still, and didn't find you there.

But you see I was sent to you, Nick--perhaps for a blessing to both
of us."

Mr. Raffles ended with a jocose snuffle: no man felt his intellect
more superior to religious cant. And if the cunning which calculates