more constant sort of fellow. I don't mean constant to Ada, for I love her dearly — better and better every day — but constant to myself. (Some- how, I mean something that I can't very well express, but you'll make it out). If I were a more constant sort of fellow, I should have held on, either to Badger, or to Kenge and Carboy, like grim Death ; and should have begun to be steady and systematic by this time, and shouldn't be in debt, and " " Are you in debt, Richard ? " " Yes," said Richard, " I am a little so, my dear. ' Also I have taken rather too much to billiards, and that sort of thing. Now the murder's out ; you despise me, Esther, don't you ? '* " You know I don't," said I. " You are kinder to me than I often am to myself," he returned. " My dear Esther, I am a very unfortunate dog not to be more settled, but how can I be more settled ? If you lived in an unfinished house, you couldn't settle down in it ; if you were condemned to leave everything you undertook, unfinished, you would find it hard to apply yourself to anything ; and yet that's my unhappy case. I was born into this unfinished contention with all its chances and changes, and it began to unsettle me before I quite knew the difi'erence between a suit at law and a suit of clothes ; and it has gone on unsettling me ever since ; and here I am now, conscious sometimes that I am but a worthless feUow to love my confiding cousin Ada." We were in a solitary place, and he put his hand before his eyes and sobbed as he said the words. " Eichard ! '* said I, " do not be so moved. You have a noble nature, and Ada's love may make you worthier every day." " I know, my dear," lie replied, pressing my aim, " I know all that. You mustn't mind my being a little soft now, for I have had all this upon my mind for a long time ; and have often meant to speak to you, and have sometimes wanted opportunity and sometimes courage. I know what the thought of Ada ought to do for me, but it doesn't do it. I am too unsettled even for that. I love her most devotedly ; and yet I do her wrong, in doing myself wrong, every day and hour. But it can't last for ever. We shall come on for a final hearing, and get judgment in our favour ; and then you and Ada shaU see what I can really be ! " It had given me a pang to hear him sob, and see the tears start out between his fingers ; but that was infinitely less aftecting to me, than the hopefid animation with which he said these words. "I have looked well into the papers, Esther — I have been deep in them for months " — he continued, recovering his cheerfulness in a moment, " and you may rely upon it that we shall come out triumphant. As to years of delay, there has been no want of them. Heaven knows ! and there is the greater probability of our bringing the matter to a speedy close ; in fact, it's on the paper now. It wiU be all right at last, and then you shall see ! " Recalling how he had just now placed Messrs. Kenge and Carboy in the same category with Mr. Badger, I asked him when he intended to be articled in Lincoln's Inn ? "There again ! I think not at all, Esther," he returned with an effort. " I fancy I have had enough of it. Having worked at Jarndyce and