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Armadale

services you shall have gratis; but I can't lose by you as well. Only remember that,
and you shall have your way. By-gones shall be by-gones, and we will forget the
past.
"Your affectionate son,
"JAMES BASHWOOD."
In the ecstasy of seeing help placed at last within his reach, the father put his son's
atrocious letter to his lips. "My good boy!" he murmured, tenderly--"my dear,
good boy!"
He put the letter down, and fell into a new train of thought. The next question to
face was the serious question of time. Mr. Pedgift had told him Miss Gwilt might
be married in a fortnight. One day of the fourteen had passed already, and another
was passing. He beat his hand impatiently on the table at his side, wondering how
soon the want of money would force Allan to write to him from London. "To-
morrow?" he asked himself. "Or next day?"
The morrow passed, and nothing happened. The next day came, and the letter
arrived! It was on business, as he had anticipated; it asked for money, as he had
anticipated; and there, at the end of it, in a postscript, was the address added,
concluding with the words, "You may count on my staying here till further
notice."
He gave one deep gasp of relief, and instantly busied himself --though there were
nearly two hours to spare before the train started for London--in packing his bag.
The last thing he put in was his blue satin cravat. "She likes bright colors," he
said, "and she may see me in it yet!"
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