"Like a dream," answered Chandos Winslow; "and by no means a pleasant one."
"Well, it is happy, at all events, that the dream has ended so well," rejoined the old officer; "you have come off with flying colours; and although we are in sad tribulation here just now, from circumstances which you have no doubt heard of, you must come and dine with me, and we will have a long chat upon other affairs, which must be spoken of before we have done. Can you come to-morrow?"
"I fear not," answered his young companion. "I shall be the greater part of the day in the city; and have, besides, to consult lawyers upon matters greatly affecting my interests, although I much fear that no good will result from our consultations."
"Don't plunge into law! don't plunge into law!" said the General, shaking his head ruefully. "I declare, I would rather lose all I have, than to get into a law-suit about it. The roguery and folly of the world, are the fields from which lawyers reap their harvests; and a plentiful crop they get. In England, at least, there is as much philosophy as charity in that passage of the Bible which says, 'If a man take your cloak, give him your coat also;' for if you go to law with him, hang me, if those human sharks, the lawyers, do not contrive to get your breeches into the bargain. But can you come the day after to-morrow then?"
Chandos assented, and, the hour being fixed at half-past seven, took his leave, and returned to his inn in the city. The chamber assigned to him was large and gloomy: the wainscoted walls were covered, besides the paint, with the smoke and dust of half a century; the bed in the far corner rose tall and ghastly, in curtains of brown moreen; and the hangings at the windows had acquired a hue which can only be given by long immersion in a London atmosphere. There was a feeling of foul misery about the whole, which fell depressing upon the spirit of Chandos Winslow. It was much more like poverty and wretchedness than the gardener's cottage at Northferry. He thought of Rose Tracy; he recalled her father's cold and repulsive manner; he inquired of his own heart if it were possible to ask her to share poverty with him; to expose her to all the ills of penury, the daily cares and grinding inconveniences of narrow means, and to bind down her free spirit, unaccustomed to a want unsatisfied, a wish unfulfilled, in the hard chain of straitened circumstances. Chandos Winslow would not answer the question; but his heart sunk as he propounded it to himself: and he went to bed weary of the working-day world and the battle of anxious thought.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The next was a busy day with Chandos Winslow. His first occupation was to sell out a sum sufficient to pay the costs of the late trial, as far as he was able to calculate them, from the rough data which he had received. He added thereunto, two hundred and fifty pounds, for his current expenses; and having arranged that affair, and placed the money in his banker's hands, he proceeded to seek the friend who had so ably pleaded his cause. From his house, he was sent to his chambers; from his chambers, to a court of law, where he found him, wigged and gowned, in the midst of a long and laborious argument, which seemed likely never to come to an end. After enduring full two hours, however, the speech was concluded; and Chandos, sending his card, obtained a moment's interview with his friend. Sir---- shook him warmly by the hand, saying rapidly, "Come to me at nine to-night, Winslow: I cannot stay with you now; for I must hear what the gentlemen opposite have to say. Don't eat much dinner; for I shall eat nothing till then."
"At your own house, or at your chambers?" asked Chandos.
"At chambers, at chambers," said the barrister, turning to go back into the court. "I shall not get home till two. Our lives are not easy ones."
It was now about four o'clock; and, with feelings difficult to describe, but to which he was resolved not to yield, Chandos Winslow proceeded to call upon several of his most intimate acquaintances. It required an effort to knock at the first door. The feeling of having stood in the felon's dock, was strong upon him. The uncertainty of the reception he should meet with; the knowledge that, with a mind which: has the slightest tincture of vulgarity--that is to say, with nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine persons out of every million--an accusation, however false, leaves some stain; he felt irritable and impatient beforehand, at the idea of being treated coldly at a moment when he felt that society owed him something, for having inflicted on him undeserved hardships.