you; he would naturally feel aggrieved if there were any appearance of

avoiding him; and as for Mr. Adam, do you know, I think your delicacy

out of place.... And now, Mr. Dodd, what are you to do with this money?"

Ay, there was the question. With two thousand pounds--fifty thousand

francs--I might return to Paris and the arts, and be a prince and

millionaire in that thrifty Latin Quarter. I think I had the grace, with

one corner of my mind, to be glad that I had sent the London letter: I

know very well that with the rest and worst of me, I repented bitterly

of that precipitate act. On one point, however, my whole multiplex

estate of man was unanimous: the letter being gone, there was no help

but I must follow. The money was accordingly divided in two unequal

shares: for the first, Mr. Gregg got me a bill in the name of Dijon to

meet my liabilities in Paris; for the second, as I had already cash in

hand for the expenses of my journey, he supplied me with drafts on San

Francisco.

The rest of my business in Edinburgh, not to dwell on a very agreeable

dinner with the lawyer or the horrors of the family luncheon, took the

form of an excursion with the stonemason, who led me this time to no

suburb or work of his old hands, but with an impulse both natural and

pretty, to that more enduring home which he had chosen for his clay. It

was in a cemetery, by some strange chance, immured within the bulwarks

of a prison; standing, besides, on the margin of a cliff, crowded with

elderly stone memorials, and green with turf and ivy. The east wind

(which I thought too harsh for the old man) continually shook the

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