“Well, young man,” said Ashmead, drawing a long breath; “didn't I tell you you are a lucky fellow? You have got twenty pounds a week, and that blest boon, 'a conscience void of offense.' You are a happy man. Here's a strong cup of tea for you: just you drink it, and then get up and take the train to the little village. There kindred spirits and fresh delights await you. You are not to adorn Barfordshire any longer: that is the order.”
“Well, I'll go to London—but not without you.”
“Me! What do you want of me?”
“You are a good fellow, and the only friend I have left. But for you, I should be dead, or mad. You have pulled me through.”
“Through the window I did. Lord, forgive me for it,” said Joseph. “Well, I'll go up to town with you; but I can't be always tied to your tail. I haven't got twenty pounds a week. To be sure,” he added, dryly, “I haven't earned it. That is one comfort.”
He telegraphed Hillstoke, and took Severne up to London.
There the Bohemian very soon found he could live, and even derive some little enjoyment from his vices—without Joseph Ashmead. He visited him punctually every Saturday, and conversed delightfully. If he came any other day, it was sure to be for an advance: he never got it.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FANNY DOVER was sent for directly to Somerville Villa; and, three days after the distressing scene I have endeavored to describe, Vizard brought his wrecked sister home. Her condition was pitiable; and the moment he reached Vizard Court he mounted his horse and rode to Hillstoke to bring Miss Gale down to her.