"Yes, Nelly. I have seen him. He is, I am sorry to say, far from well; he looks aged and even broken. I think,' he added, if your mother saw him she would acknowledge, notwithstanding her prejudice against him, that he had a heart.'

'Do not let us talk of prejudices, Raymond, at a time like this,' said Nelly reprovingly; I feel as if I stood beside my father's grave. What word does Mr. Pennicuick bring us of him?' 'He has little to say, Nelly; and it pains him to say even that little. I have come to-day in his place--'

sent.

"What? Will not Mr. Pennicuick come to see us?'

Nay, it is not "will;" he is really not equal to it just at preHe is exhausted by grief and travel, and he has sent me as his messenger to say all that is kind and-and-friendly, and to make a certain proposition to you which I hope I do most earnestly hope-Mrs. Conway and yourself may take into your favourable consideration.'

It had cost poor Raymond a good deal to say this much, and, though he was conscious that he had not expressed it very happily, it was a great relief to him to have 'got it over;' his disappointment therefore was considerable when Nelly only replied, And what have you to tell us about dear papa?' as though she had not even heard him.

'He met his fate, it seems, dear Nelly, very suddenly; directly he was condemned, my father started for Shanghae to endeavour to procure his pardon, or at least his reprieve, and when he got back-all was over.'

"What? was there no message? no good-bye? no word to me, nor to my mother?'

'He sent his love, his dear love; he bade you not grieve for him over-much, and blessed you.'

'And was there no line of farewell? Even a scrap of his handwriting, he must have known, would have been inexpressibly dear to me, and I am sure he would have thought of that.'

'He did not think of it, dear Nelly, or at least there was none. Consider the frightful position in which he found himself. The suddenness of his calamity, the shock--'

Nelly shook her head. It was not like papa, Raymond,' interrupted she. He was so brave, so careless of self, and so thoughtful for others. Even when I was a child, and he upon the eve of battle, he once wrote--' Here she broke down and sobbed as though her heart would break.

'Don't cry, don't cry,' whispered Raymond imploringly; 'I can't bear it, darling.'

Her sorrow so distressed him that he was himself unconscious

of the loving epithet he used; moved though she was, it did not however escape Nelly's notice, and, though she did not resent it, it had the effect of calming her at once.

'Forgive me for my selfishness, Raymond; it is wrong to give such way to weakness. There must be some mistake, I think, about dear papa, which will be cleared up hereafter. You say Mr. Pennicuick is ill; he may have forgotten things which, to us in our forlorn condition, are of great moment. We must have patience a little longer.'

'But indeed it is not that, dear Nelly. My father is quite himself. He has been thinking a great deal about you-you and your mother,' he added hastily, for he saw the colour rush into the young girl's cheek: it was terrible to him that she should believe even for a moment that he was referring to his suit. • What he wishes to do the only service he can now do for his dead friend— is to protect his dear ones; he cannot control fate, but he can mitigate its harshness. You must permit him to do that, Nelly.' 'I don't quite understand, Raymond.'

'That is my fault; I am stupid in expressing myself. My father wishes to help you in a material way: and yet, so that you should feel no sense of obligation. Three or four hundred a year is a mere nothing to him; while to you, with your simple habits and economical ways, it would be of some service. He wishes, without condition of any kind,' added Raymond significantly, 'to make you, that is your mother and yourself, this modest allowance.'

'It is very kind and very liberal of him, Raymond, but——'

No, it is not liberal,' interrupted the young man emphatically; it is purposely the reverse of liberal, in order that you may feel no sense of dependence or obligation; the only stipulation, indeed, he made was that there should be no thanks.'

6

I have done your father wrong, Raymond, for I did not think him capable of this; I thank him, or, if he will not have thanks, I thank you for him; it is most generous and most delicate; I for my part feel as-as-grateful to him as though we could accept it.'

And why, in Heaven's name, should you not accept it? Does a man owe nothing to his best friend when he is dead? no debt which a sigh or a tear cannot discharge? Is it not as cruel to deny him such a mournful pleasure as to refuse to allow him to pay him the last rites, to follow him to his grave? I cannot think you will be so-so

'So churlish, if you will, Raymond,' put in Nelly, with a sad smile. It is one of the many disadvantages of poverty that it

often makes one appear ungracious. For my own part, I must needs say that I prefer to keep my independence. But this is a matter to which I have no right to reply for certain. mother who must decide.'

It is my

And you will use your influence to induce her to decline this offer?'

No: since you wish it, Raymond, I will be quite passive.' 'That is because you have such confidence in her prejudices that you are sure

Hush! here is mamma,' said Nelly hurriedly and at the same moment Mrs. Conway entered the room.

Among the many ills to which obesity is subject there is this peculiar misfortune, that when in sorrow the very stout and florid do not evince it by their appearance: we are accustomed to associate melancholy with a lean frame and a pale face, and fat people cannot bring themselves down,' like jockeys, to suit the exigencies of the occasion.

The misfortune that had befallen Mrs. Conway had not one whit reduced her ample proportions, or robbed her cheeks of a single rose-or peony. It was only to a close observer that the signs of trouble were manifest, in the lack-lustre eye and the trembling hand. Her voice, too, had lost its former testiness, and become soft and gentle. I am glad to see you, Raymond,' she began; then suddenly stopped as though she read his errand and in a harsh, almost defiant tone, inquired, 'What is your news?'

6

My father has come home, Mrs. Conway.'

I concluded as much,' said she, closing her eyes and pressing her lips together like one in pain. Well?'

6

He knew this was no inquiry about his father's health, for she never gave herself the trouble to affect an interest in him. It was simply a sign to him that she was prepared to listen to whatever he might have to say.

The steamer will arrive at Southampton on Tuesday, Mrs. Conway, my father having been obliged to leave it from ill health, and return overland. It will bring four large cases, I was instructed to tell you, directed hither. I believe nothing has been left behind of your poor husband's property. His own servant, who was deeply attached to him, assisted by my father himself, undertook

What does your father say?' The interruption was not violent, though abrupt, but the tone of it was singularly keen and searching.

'He has little to say, dear Mrs. Conway. The catastrophe, it

seems, was very sudden and unexpected, and my father's mind was wholly taken up with efforts-vain, alas! to avert it. He started for Shanghae after but a brief interview-it was all that was allowed him-and except that your dear husband sent you a loving farewell, and invoked God's blessing upon you both--' That is false,' put in Mrs. Conway, in a terrible voice; there was more than that.'

'Indeed, dear madam, my father assures me that there was nothing else.'

'He lies.'

There was a painful silence. It was plain that argument with the poor lady was out of the question. Her face was the very incarnation of obstinate conviction.

'Dear mamma,' said Nelly softly, 'pray remember that you are speaking to Mr. Pennicuick's son.'

Mrs. Conway did not seem to hear her; her eyes were rivetted upon Raymond's face, but her thoughts were far away.

Why does he not come here?' inquired she presently in sharp, incisive tones. Why does he keep in hiding?'

My father is greatly exhausted with his journey, and, as I have told you, very unwell. He did not feel equal, just at present, to converse with you on so sad a subject.'

'Not equal? Bah! he had not courage enough.'

There was another painful pause.

'Perhaps,' said Nelly hesitatingly, there may be a letter, or something, in dear papa's travelling desk; I know he took it with him wherever it was possible.'

She looked inquiringly at Raymond, so that he was obliged to speak.

'Indeed, dear Nelly, I am afraid there was nothing of the kind. My father made search everywhere, as it was his duty to do, in case there should be a will.'

'We are beggars, of course,' observed Mrs. Conway calmly. 'No, indeed, madam,' began Raymond; and he was about at once to mention his father's offer, when Nelly restrained him. She was right, he felt; it was a most inopportune time to speak to Mrs. Conway upon such a subject.

'We are not beggars, mamma, unless we beg,' said Nelly quietly; and there is no need to beg.'

'It is as well to beg as to slave oneself to death as you are doing,' replied Mrs. Conway bitterly. Then she burst into tears and began to rock herself to and fro upon her chair, quite regardless and perhaps unconscious of the presence of her visitor.

'Go, Raymond, go,' whispered Nelly; and the young man rose

with the intention of withdrawing at once without exciting the widow's observation. He was distressed and shocked to an extreme degree, not only at the poor lady's condition, but at the words she had spoken to her daughter, which confirmed his worst suspicions as to the efforts she was making to maintain the little household. It was painful to him that Nelly should work at all for her daily bread; but that she should be overworking herself was terrible. And yet the reception that his father's proposition had met with, even thus far, and from her whom he had thought the less likely of the two to oppose herself to it, was most discouraging. In his hurry to escape he tripped in the carpet, and overturned a chair.

6

"What is that?' exclaimed the widow excitedly.

'Nothing, mamma: Raymond is going away.'

'Why does he not wish me good-bye?' said Mrs. Conway in her old fretful manner. And yet, why should he? Why should anyone care for an old and beggared woman?'

'Indeed, Mrs. Conway, you must not talk like that,' said Raymond softly. There are bright days in store for you yet, I hope.'

6

'Bright days! for me? No, lad, no. I might have had them once, perhaps; but that is all over now. She murmured something to herself that sounded like the night cometh, the night cometh,' and Raymond noted for the first time how old and ill she looked. He was fond of you, Ray, when you were a child,' she continued caressingly: he was always fond of children. He had a kind heart before I turned it into stone.'

Again, at an appealing look from Nelly, the young man was about to leave the room, when the widow called him back.

'Don't send Raymond away without a good-bye, Nelly, though that is all we have to give him. He is a good lad, though of an evil stock. I mind the days when I have dandled you in my arms, boy, and strove to be to you what your mother might have been had not Heaven been kinder to her. She died ere she reached your age. I was young then myself; and Arthur-that was your father, girl-he was my lover and my husband too. Do you think I turned his heart to stone, Nelly?'

'Indeed, mamma, you did not. You cannot be conscious of your own words. He was the kindest, gentlest being to the last.'

'Right, right, Nelly; so he was. Not one to leave us without a word, without a line, to die without a sign of love to those belonging to him. No, no. No, no But you are Ralph Pennicuick's son, lad. Well, well; I would not say a word to wound you. Do you mind if I kissed you, just once-an old