A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT:

nv JAMES PAYN, Auxnon ok "By Peoxy," "Undijr One Eoof," "Walter's Word," "HiaH Spirits," Etc.

CHAPTER XV. A SOUL'S REIiKLMON.

HowEVfcE reticent Mr Kuthcrford had shown himself to Mr Dartmoor with res pect to Master Matthew's affairs, the infor mation he had supplied to him was correct enough: there liad been a little addition to the household in Cavendish Grove, which for the time, it was true enough, had made "another Jiian'' of Mattbew. This change for the better had not, however, been duo to the actual arrival of the baby-boy, whatever bliss that might have conferred upon its mother. As a rule, unless there is some landed property depending on their advent, which would otherwise pass into hands _ but " little more than kin and less than kind," babies do not (ill the heart of man with rapture. They hare to develop a little in the way of gristle, if not bone, and become .a little less subject to indigestion's airy wing, before the male parent takes to them. Matthew's satisfaction nrimo mainly from the safety of his wife, about, which he had long been devoured with anxiety ; she was so very slight and delicate, and locked so like a child herself, that the troubles of maternity might well have been looked forward to with apprehension. She had got over thorn not only bravely (which was to have been expected), but as the monthly nurse observed (who was a person of experience), in a highly creditable manner.

At first, Matthew had grievously grudged the hours he had to pass away from her at the o/lice ; hut as he always found her glad nnd smiling on his return, and getting quite strong and well, as she assured him, his apprehensions Rnulunlly vanished. As to tho baby, it was not only tlrt! idol of its mother, but worshipped by Aunt Amy, and had received marks of' allegiance fr«m Cuclc Stephen himself. In its scarlet and mottled stage, it had not escaped that gentleman's sarcasm (who had oven ven tured to compare its somewhat pappy and perilous consistency to that of a poached eg)*; but as days went on it chanced tii "take notice" for tho first time by encircling Uncle Stephen's little linger with its tiny list, whereby it ostabli bed its supremacy. How strange it is that almost all of us, however liumb'o our social imsiiion, ascend at tlm beginning of life a throne which is likewise an altar, and rule at least one follow-creature with undi-putcd sway! How few of us, however fortunate, can ever win our way into the h- arts of others as it is thus won for us by th-1 kindly forco of Nature! Alas! how soon she tires of us, or even grows unkindly, and makes that Yory lovo she unused to be showered upon us in our youth a source uf bitterness through sad comparison, 1 Wo have said that for n time Matthew Ilelston's habitual melancholy was dissi pali-d by this ray of sunshine, but it was only for a time. It is the misfortune of some folks that they cannot look on the bright side nf tilings, imr oven take those "Hjiort views " which the philosopher has so judiciously reeommendou. As th>> days wont on, and his Into Rource of anxiety was removed, or grow remote, another took its place. This wa* no lew than ihe jrobability of (Jie severance ot his connection with Mr Signet, which, if it really happened, would tbrow him on the wide worm again with an added responsibility on his shoulders in tho person of thu little new-oomor, and with not even tho hopes which had once beoii entertained by Madge to buoy him up. He Vept, of course, this fear from S.il»'T nnd the ro*t, but it began to haunt, him, mid not, it must allowed, without reason.

Ever hum* that piece of information reflecting Mr Frank llarlow hud been given by him to Mr Signet, that gentle man's rimmier towards him had changed for the worse;. He never, it is true, alluded to the cause, but Matthew knew the cause an Wi'U oh though ho had ho' it fortli in writing. Nothing at the establishment in Paulet Street was now done ;is it should be done by his "confidential agent," whose refund, moreover, to act us such except for Uic few rcmaininj! works of the year, was oj>enly and repeatedly referred t». Circumstances might arise, his employer once frankly told him, in case of Matthew's persistent refusal to perform that Moor Street orrand, that would compel him to make a ohongo in his establishment a* at present conwituted—• tho meaning of which periphriwN was, of course, plain enough to Matthew, and shiidowid forth his dis missal. It may naturally 1)0 said that, being in snoh straits, it would have been but comm»n prudence on Matthew's jmrt to withdraw li s •bjections, and offer to continue his attendance on Lady Pargitor. But, ill iiie first place, though Snbey had taken no harm n ■ ther respects from her recent trouble, she had become exceedingly newon*. a. nl had expressed her satisfaction that with the end of the year these un timely excursions of her husband were to cease. "I am never quite happy in my mind," »'ic said, •when you are away from me now, love,; and in these winter nights especially 1 am always picturing something terible v- having happened to you. If 1 drop off to sleep, 1 have dread ful dreams of you ; and it I lie awake, 1 lie in fear."

She had never been all'ected in that way before, and though doubtless she had dis liked his absence on those very expeditions much more than she protended to do, she bad accepted the necessity of it with cheerfulness, as she did all other trial*. But now that shf had been promised a relief from this trouble, it would be a disappointment indeed for her to have to face it anew. Moroorer, Matthew had rcaaoa to suspect that, even should he waive hie objections to perform the service in question, some other cause of disagree ment -with him would be discovered by Mr Siguct, in which case he would have humiliated himself, and, what was worse, made his wife wretched, with nothing gained.

It was not without reason, looked at from Ids own standpoint, that Mr Signet had becotne what the vulgar term "musty" in these latter days. Twice since that entertainment at Cedar Villa, which liad begun so hopefully for him, passed so delightfully, but ended so disastrously, had he made a call in Cavendish Grove, and on each occasion had Miss Thurlow been denied to him. He knew she was at homo now, in attendance on her sister; but it seemed, or so he was informed, that Mrs ilclston was too indisposed to dispense with her presence upstairs. He had re ceived the kind regards of the ladies from the gracious lips of Uucle Stephen, hot that had by no means contented liim. Ho resented such behaviour extremely, and, as we have seen, had begun to take it out of his subordinate in consequence; not, how

ever, from any personal ill-will to liim, but with a vague intention (as he did not hesi tate to express it to himself) of nutting the screw on. Hii nature, by this time at least, was not a generous one, and he had an idea that by making tilings uncomfort able for Matthew he might by pressure win him over to his own views with res pect to his siste-in-law. He quite believed that she was engaged to this Mr Barlow; but a young lady's engagement was in his eyes by no means irrefragable, but rather of a conditional nature, dependent on whether anything better should turn up or not; and he was quite sure in this case that such a contingency had happened. He even persuaded himself that a wrong had been done to this beautiful and accom plished young creature, who, ignorant of the world and of her own merits, had been permitted too hastily to accept the atten tions of an attorney in a small way of business, when had shebeen giveu time, SO much more splendid a future would have «waited her—and, in fact, still did so, if ho could only get tho opportunity of inform ing her of the fact, which was at present so persistently denied him. Matthew Ilelston's character has indeed been ill-portrayed if it is imagined that nny amount of "squeezing" could mould it into the direction desired by Mr. Signet; but unhappily tho squeezing Hid neverthe less affect it. It re-awakened all the old bitterness of thought which, since those .days of no employment and groundless trust in Madge, hud been in abeyance, Ofld which of late tho tender associations of home had lulled to rest How monstrous and abominable did it fccm that he and his dear ones should lose their means of livelihood through this man's caprice, or because lie was disappointed in an nudn cious expectation ! How unjust it was that Skill and Diligence should i>o denic-l employment—for l>is gloomy mind, like the shadow of the event itself, pictured the blow as ill act to fall-while Dulnoss was clothed in plenty, and Idleness revelled in excess ! , Ignorant of tlio slings that drove him, it wua with amazement that Mr Durham heard his nephew utter sentiments with respect to the rights (or wrongs) of pro perty, over their nightly pipes, which shocked philosophy itself, and were alto gether out of harmony with tobacco. At the time, indeed, he thought nothing seri ous of them, but set them down a* little jets of radical spleen, rising from a natural and, indeed, an hereditary source?, the sprin"s of wldcll chanced to be at souie whut higher pressure than usual; Iml it wan fated that the time Bhoiild wimo when their expression had a deeper significance for him. One occasion, wh'ii Matthew, He-wilding from the abstract to the con crete inveighed against Lady Pargitor and her diamonds, wan destined to recur with csp tihil force- "Why. my dear Malt," Uncle Stephen hail lightly answered, "If Mr Sunct only heard ym bilk, so far from ■wishing you to continue the custodian of his treasure, he would be afraid of your dropping it into the river at high water, to Miitolicr ladyship." "Nay, that would bo to limit l'ortunc hoi sol f,""' answered Slot.how, grimly "If 1 took the diamonds,, it would certainly not he to enrich Father Thames with them. Good Heavens?" he continued, rising from his seat and pacing the litrlo room ex citedly. " how si range it BCcms that hnlf a-do/.oii of these sparkling stones, which are now useless, or the cause of quarrel, or only serve to make more hideous th» wo man th.'t wears them, would, in worthier hands, be competence anil comfort; [nijjlit realise the dreams of science, or " "Or furnish tho dreamer," put in Undo Stephen, slly "with wholesome though compulsory employment for ton yours at lent, and with the lease «< n cell in Port land, exquisitely clean, and with hot air upon the most improved system." " That if, indeed, another view of the (mention, and, of course, the more practical one," admitted Matthew; and no more w.is said upon the subject; but Mr Durham no'ictl that his nephew was more silent even than usual that evening, and looked liko one consumed with some monopolising thought, or gnawing cure. In Sahey's ptcsence, however, and in Amy*, Matthew's brow wots always ohsir; and, indecl, it was Tory seldom tlwt ho '•fjiowod his seamy side," as he himself was wont to lerm his dLssati faction with the world and it« arrangement, even to hifl uncle.

CHAPTER XVI HIS LAST ETEHING

FRIDAY, the 4th of December, in the year in which wo write, was remarkable for its extreme cold. No snow fell on tli.it dny, but much had fallen on the prerious week —ntul where it fell, cTcn in town, sarofor Uic ministrations of tho street scareng^rH, it lay ; for it froze so hard that the wind could get no hold of it; and the wind, de nied ita usual horse-play, went atom like a roaring lion, seeking out other mischief. To ni'-st of us, in London, such inclement weather matters little; ncitlier our work nor our pastimes arc curried on in tho opcu air ; and, whatever the tailor may havo re torted to the land'inan concerning falling chimneypots, it is not so dangerous to walk (he streets on windy days as to sail the teas. Four-wheeled cabs aud omni buses may havo their disadvantages, but they arc not liable to be blown over; while the' underground railways afford a still creiitcr sense of security. Locomotion, thorcfore, goes on as usual, the interrup tion of which is wir only serious public calamity. An unusually keen and boister ous day is, in fact, rather hailed by the general public than otherwie, for it affords humorous incidents in the thorough fare nnd a topic of conversation—which is a desideratum nlway*—by the bright winter fires at night. No doubt the little household in Caven dish Grove would havo enjoyed their dinner as much as usual, depite th< wintry ila.st thiit howled without and tore through the leallcss gardens at the back a.s though there had been no walls between them, but for the sense that one of their number was doomed that night to face its power. He bad already conveyed Lady Pnrqiter's dia monds to her that evening, in order tlmt she might wear them at a great ambassador's ball, and at three in the morning it would be his hard fate to fetch them again, for deposit in Paulet Street as usual. More over, he had a severe cold upon bin), though he- thought little of th»t-as it 'was his habit to think little of all physical ailments —and concealed its existence as much as possible. On the other hand, it was a great satis faction to his wife to reflect that this was the last time he would be diagtrcd from home at these untimly hours, since Lady Pargiter, it was understood, was going into the country for Christmas, and the now year was to free Matthew from such unpleasant errands. Moreover, what vraa a source of satisfaction to all was that, for the first time since the arrival of tho " little stranger," Sabcy herself was present at the family meal. She was bright and merry, and looked well, though, as Uncle Stephen averred, "more like a piece of eggshell china than ever;" that is to say, she had that exquisitely delicate air which belones to some women of her type, and is especi ally noticeable after the troubles of mater nityhave been recently surmounted, Amy, too, was looking her best and brightest;

which may be partly accounted for by the fact that Mr. Frank Barlow made one of the party. It is probable he had not been informed of Mr. Signet's recent attentions —or attempts at attentions; but if ho had, it is certain that they had in no way dis composed him He narrated with some humour a scene in the law courts that morning, arising out of a case (we may be sure) in which Bates and Barlow (his senior partner was Bates) were concerned for tho fortunate party. They had been long en deavouring to obtain a certificate in the Court of Bankruptcy for a certain client of theirs whose failure in the shipping trade bad been something more than disastrous. Their chief hope had been in the deafness and absence of mind of the Judge ; but until that morning the keeness of tho op posing creditors' legal adviser had been smb. that no opportunity had been offered them. Perceiving their enemy to have gone out to lunch before " the Court" rose for that pur pose, they had seized the favourable moment for their application. Their coun sel rose and explained as briefly as possible how his client had lost his money through the foundering of the ship Paramatta— averred by some to have been scuttled, but whose loss he, of course, described as a visitation of Providence. But for the Paramatta, his client would have still been rich aii'i respected : but for the Paramatta, this application—humiliating to such a man to Have to make—would never have been necessitated. The Judge, eager for lunch, only half-hearing what was said, and day.cd wi'li the frequent mention of the name of this unhappy vessel, inquired suddenly, " Does Mr. Paramatta oppose ?" This was the question, if only another name had boon substituted, of which of all others the counsel was most apprehensive.

"The Vnramutta is a ship, my lord," he was obi'god to murmur. '• I don't ask what ha is," exclaimed the Judge irascibly ; "I ask doe* he oppose 1" "Mr. Paramatta docs not oppose, my hid."

" Very good ; then your client may have his certificate.'

So when the counsel for the opposition came in from lunch they found themselves checkmated. M this narrative (as savour ing somewhat of sharp practice) Amy was so much more shocked than amused, that Mr. Barlow had to explain that the device was entirely the nflhir of the banister, and could have had uo place in tho instructions from his attorneys, which wore nlw.iys as pure as the driven snow : but, ou some lively badinage from Uncle Stephen and the rest upon that point, Amy was found to be " retained" on Mr Barlow's side

Perhaps nothing is a greater proof of the harmony of families than the occurrence of humorous conflicts, devoid of all illnature, aiming them, and in Cavcndi-h drove they were very frequent, Matthew bore his part as best he could in them, but of late the shadow of calamity hail be- n heavy on him, and it grew, like the creeping palsy, with every hour.

When that evening was over and L'ncle .Stephen had left him aftei emoking his usual pipe, and " light after light went out " in the house, and "he was all alone," his heart became very heavy. Notwith standing that in some respects he was of a morbid disposition, he would have scorned the idea of being affected by any mere pro sentiment of evil; but on thi< occasion, when the echo of Sahey's silver laugh, and of hi* uncle's rol n.st mirth, had died away, a despondency far greater than usual took iKissossion »f him. Ho did not even lift, as lie wa- wont to do, the decent pall which covered his lin'ovcd Madge, but sat, with pipe in mouth (unconscious that its ashes wero cold), his eyes fixed on vacancy, and his thoughts vaguely wandering into the future, tint for him held no resting place of hope. Presently, long after midnight, and m a lull of tlic tempest that still reigned without, he heard Uncle Stephen's footsteps overhead. Thinking the old man might be ill, he took a caudle and went sofih up to his bedroom door and knocked, only to find Mi1 Durham shivering in his shirt, nnd endeavouring to find a passage in /Ksohylus by the feeble flame of his night-light. " I am sorry to have alarmed you, my dear Malt," he said, "but this passage haunts me, and my chief motto in life is,

1 Always verify quotation.'" As lie went buck Matthew looked into his wife's room, and found her sleeping with the child cUsj>ed lovingly to her bo som. It was a comfort to him to find hor thus lapped in bliss, and as unconscious of the melancholy that consumed him as of the kisa he gently pressed upon her brow. How he envied her the faith and hope that never failed her ! How he envied Uncle Stephen that freedom from genuine care that could admit of so artificial a solicitude as a doubt about /Eschylns ! Amy, too, was doubtless dreaming of her lover. At a little after two o'clock, when he was about to prepare for his expedition, the front-door bell rang, ami he found to his surprise that the cub had come f"r him. He scarcely ever failed to hear the noise of its wheels beforehand, and tho wind thnt night blew from the south-east, a quarter that would have carried it to his ears. The reason of this unwonted silence was not far to sock ; the snow had recommenced to fall, and the whole earth already lay in its white, close-fitting shroud, while tho wind howled over it like a mourner.

"A bitter night, Master Matthew," said the cabman, descending from his perch and (lapping his anna like a penguin. " Well, it's the last, John, that we two shall bo abroad in together. Come in and have a glass of whisky before you start."

"Thank you kindly, sir, I don't mind if I do," which was John's phrase for ac ceptance of hospitality of that nature. When the liquor wus produced and his glass filled, " Here's good luck to you, sir," lie said.

"Thank you," said Matthew, not scorn' fully, but a li'tlc grimly. If the prayers for his welfare of some under that roof should avail him not, John's wishes were not likely to do so. " And good luck to our trip," added the latter, as lie took his BPCond draught, whioh emptied the glass.' 'Do you then anticipate ill-luck?" in quired Matthew carelessly, because sonic reply seemed to be expected of him, rather than because ho felt any interest in his own question. Though perfectly simple and without pride—though ho had so keen n sense of self-respect —he had always some dilliculty in getting on with men of Ku thcrford's class.

"Oh no, sir, not I; hut since, as you say, it's our last trip, and nothing hns yet gone wrong with n», it must happen to night or never."

"I see. There is your cigar, John." As Matthew Helston turned to enter the cab he looked up at the window above (as it was his habit to do), and to his surprise perceived a light there; the curtain was half withdrawn, and a face could be half discerned, endeavouring, as it seemed, to pierce the snowy veil of the night.

He understood at once that it was his wife, who had been awakened by the un accustomed ringing of the bell, and was straining her eyes to see the last of him. He kissed his hand, though she could sco him not, and, entering the vehicle, was driven off.

Her faithful face watches the cab till the fulling snow shuts it out from her view;

then with a sigh, succeeded by a smile, as her glance falls on her still sleeping babe, she returns to her pillow, to rest, pure soul, while rest she may. To Matthew, on his road to Moor-street, nothing happens; but as his driver opens the cab-door for him to descend, the handle catches Mr John Rutherford's coat, which thereupon, falling open, discloses hi his breast-pocket the butt of a pistol. But of this, Matthew-full of thought of Madge and misery—sees nothing and goes in.

CHAPTER XVII

THE VKHL,

rf!s"fivc" o'clock in the wild winter morn ing, and Matthew Helston has not yet returned home. The thing had happened once before, and only onoo; but that it liad happened is a source of inexpressible com fort to S ibey as she lies awake and listens in the darkness for the wheels of his cab. She hears, however, nothing save the litful rushes of the wind, and, between thorn the monotonous beat of the small time-piece on the mantelpiece, and the gentle breathing o£ the infant on her arm. It is woary work this lying awake and listening, even when we are sure that what we wait for will surely come at last; but if we are not suro—if every niomiuit renders us moro anxious and Jess suro—then indeed it is weary and wearing. My the time tlie little clock had stiuck the half-hour with harsh, pitiless click, Sabcy is in v fever of fret and worry. He has never yet been so lac as this. To lie any longer inactive and a prey to nameless terrors is now a torture beyonil her powers to bear; so sho gently rises, taking the most careful pains even in that moment of suspense and dread for it lias ' conic lo (Juit —not to wake the sleeping babe. Good Heaven ! what could have kept him ? In winter, as a rule, balls do not last as long as in summer-time ; and ' even if Lady Pargiter had tarried to the hist, and «ot home at four, Matthew should have arrived by this time. Even now, how ever, with her usual thoughtfulncKS for others, Sal>ey forbears to communicate her fears to her sister, whose bedroom is on the lloor above, and, wrapping her dressing gown arounnd her, creeps downstairs softly into the dining-room. She enter tains the glimmer of a hope that her own clock may bo wrong—have gain<-d an hour or so in the night—and that the one in the parlour, regulated by Uncle Stephen him self, and a pattern of punctuality, will show her that she is mistaken in the time. The pattern of punctuality points to twenty minutes to six, and her sinking heart grows sick within her.

What a night it is for him to have been out so long iv, and with that cold upon his obest! And lmw ill he will be, poor fellow ! I hat ia her best thought. What (■he thinks more frequently, but dare not dwell upon, is that "Mwnething dreadful" has happened to him in connection with the diamonds. She knew that he always carried a revolver with him on such expe ditions ; kit thieves might carry them likewise, or that very instrument of his defence might have been wrenched from his grasp and used against him. If any thing serious had happened, John Ruther ford would, of course, have come to the Giove with the tidings of it, if lie c&tild, but lie peroajw had shared his employer's fate.

Standing at the parlour window, on the grouml-iloor, fmm which she had put aside the shutters, she start<l out into the blank, dark street, ever and anon passiug her hand across her forehead, as though to sweep nway from her brain these thoughts, too terrible surely to be realised, or even to be born of sober reason. Without a thought of self, she pictured hers<4f a widow, and the little one above stairs, for whose cry she was mechanically listening throughout this agony, as an orphan And then again she would upbraid herself for for having so little faith in the goodness of God as to entertain such ido<ia.

Similar calamities, however, happen, ami happen every day, and similar hours of unspeakable anxiety Mid woe are spent by thousands of the frailest and the most innocent of His creatures. With nr with out cause, they are equally wro-ched while they last, ajul well it is fo> those who can do ' more than " faintly trust tho larger hope " that heronftcr there will Iks amplest compensation for tltoni. Though but half clad and straight from ln-r warm bed, Sabey did not f©"l the intense cold that on the window had set ita mark in exquisite crystals, but there was a chill at her heart b.yood the power of frost to create, and alas ! with no " anmbed sense to heal " its

pain. Thus she stood liko a whit* statue, her face prossod again** the pa&e, but -with eyes that burnod with anxious flame strained eastward, till the church clock its every stroke a knell for hor—clanged six.

"He is dead; he is dead !" she mur murod lioareely, as tho iron notes died away. " 0 Matt! dear Matt 1 I shall never see you more !"

Bnt though she spoke so despairingly, despair had not seized Sabey yet. Matters had, indeed become vory serious. It was no longer possible to suppose that Matthew had merely beon delaywa by the late hours of Lady Pargiter. Bnt from seriousness to hopelessness w a long step; and after that one bitter ory wrung from hor by tho sharpness of her woe, she turned from thought to action. She bad at least— what many a poor soul has not— friends and counsellors in her wre*ch«dnoss, albeit incapable of plumbing its depth. It was curious how, during that terrible hour of love's anxiety, thoughts of what people felt and thought about hor Matthew had flitted across her brain. Amy loved him, she knew, and perhaps of all peoplo next to hersolf understood his ch-racter; and Uncle Stephen's affection for him was in disputable. But even lie, in her view, did not estimate him-his guilolossnceo, his gentleness, his love of justice, and Ins un merited misfortunes and disappointments — us he deserved. Amy and she alone knew the value of the treasure which per chance she had lost. As to outside folks, including even Mr Barlow himself, sho well knew that they altogether failed to under stand, and therefore to appreciate, him. His thoughtfulness (not for himself. Heaven knew), his silenoo born of it, and his reserve, induced by the failure of his expectations, was by them at t down to moroseness of disposition; they thought him dissatisfied without cause, and proud, yet destitute of self-relianoe. Hints had laoen openly dropped to this effect, which at the time had only aroused her scorn, but which if uttered now, would, she felt arous* hor hate. There had boen no man like her Matthew, nor ever would be, now that he was gone.

For the moment, however, all these thoughts had passed away. " Amy, dear Amy—something has hap pened " she cried, in a broken but far from tearful voice, as sbe stood beeide her sister's pillow.

"Something happened? Not to the child!" exclaimed Amy, roused at once, and leap ing from her bed. " No," answered Sabey fiercely, for that question had been gall to her. What was Uie child oompared with its father? " To Matthew."

" Great Heaven 1 what ? Oh, Sabey!'' Amy did not waste time as she said tbis, she was putting on her things—not as Lady

Pargitcrdid, but with unimaginable quick ness— yet all the time regarding her sister with the keenest sympathy. '■He has not come home, and it is six o'clock."

"Is that all, darling? He has been detained- perhaps by the wather." She nioTcd rapidly to tho window and looked out. "See how fast it snown."

"Snow would not keep him."

" Nay, but the cab j even John Ruther ford's horses are but cab-horses; and if the horse hai broken down they could not get another, of course. He will be here prw sensly, depend upon it." Sabey had had this hope in her mind before—for what contingenry, good or bad, lrcd it not entertained I —and had dismissed it; but sach is tho wondrms power of human sympathy, that tire repetition of it from Amy's lips seemed to afford her com fort.

"It is possible, dear Amy, but not pro bable. He would have come in any case, eren on foot, to lelieveour anxiety."

"Of which, deareßt, he ki'ewbiiig,"< not put in Amy quickly. " How could he know? He would naturally imagine you tr> be asleep, as I 'was—BO'fisn wretch that 1 am—instead of being awake, as I should have been, to com-010 you. Have you been long up, darling? You feel very cold." And upon her unresisting and as it seemed, unconscious frame, she wrapped a second dressing-gown. »No—yes. I don't know bow long—it seems an eternity." " My poor Salwy ! How shocked Matt will be when he comes to find you have been so troubled about him I" "Oh, if lie would wily come!" cried Sal>ey, dropping into a cliair aud rocking herself to and fro. "If he would come, ill or with » broken limb, that I micht ten-i and cure him—if anyhow he \ ould or. y

come!" , r , "He will conic, Sabey. J"' ". good bcart. Look, it is sotting light. n,id with the morning, Ictus hope lie wil <;'ive. It is only reasonable to suppose il, ■ Luce if—" "Amy," cried Sabov, starting up, "I cannot stand this any onger. i shall go to l'anlet Street and learn the w» -f " "The worst! Why tsku •-.<■> wsd v view o£ things? It is nat:ike your good sense Saboy, nor has it seust.- at all. The place in Paulet-street will not be open." "There are always people in the house," said Sabey, lingering her clothes jrreeo lutely, and with that anxious, listening air upon her face that never left it for an in stant.

" Yes, but they will know nothing of Matthew. He has told us what he does, you know ; how he lets himself in with bis latch-key, and puts the diamonds into the strong-room "Ah, the diamonds! cried Sabey, throwing up her hands. ''They have killfd Mm for the diamonds." " My dear Sabey, who have killed him ? How can you— can you distress yourself with such monstrous thoughts ? Have they killed John hutherford also, then ? And If m), do you think we should not have heard of such terrible things by this time? I graut that you have cause for anxiety " " I am in doubt," said Sabey as if to her self, and without taking any notice of this appeal, " whether to go to Paulet Street or to Hybla Mews. It is possible, as yon say, that at Mr Signet's place they may know nothing; but Mrs Butherford— — " "There, again, dear/ put m Amy quickly, "if Sally thought there was any thing wrong with her husband, would she not hare been here by this time ? He has not c-»me home, of oou-se, any more than Matthew, yet lur mind not instantly fly to robbery and murder. As to your i'oi»tr out in this weather, it would he per fect "madness; and besides, what would Matthew say should he come home and find you gone ? "But if it would be the least satisfaction to yon. I will gooff to the Mews at ooce, and UncV Stephen will, I am sure, go to Pallet Strccv' '• Eli ! what?—who is talking aboutme?' cried a wheezy voice below stairs, for the women were still in Amy's room. "What the deuce is the matter? I have gotcuch a bronchitis, thanks to the poet yEschylus. last night, that I can scarcely speak; but I can still hear." "Then he can't go. whispered Sabey. " Don't nak him, I entreat of you. It won't hurt me—nothing can hurt me so much as doing notbi. g." ; , ' ;■; , " Hu-h ! Frank will go, of course," said Amy. Then raising her voice : "Poor Sabey is in a most dreadful state about Matthew's not having come home, Mr Dur ' "Not come home?" wheezed the old gen tleman. " Why what time is it ?"

"Itia nenrly'six o'etek." Thee was a pause, during which they well understood that Uncle Stephen was looking very serious. _~,.... , " Ob, that's nothing. It's this infernal weather. The horse has slippedup, or can't get along; cm-"honest John," as you call him, has taken an overdose of whisky t« keep the cold out. Matthew will be home by breakfast time, trust him. I'll just put on my clothes and see about it." The two women looked at one another far from reassured by Mr Durham's speech. The tone in which ho spoke, making every allowance for his bronchitis, seemed to belie his words. The old gentleman evidently thought ill of the matter. "Now, Saboy," said Amy, with tender earnctae-s, " all you have to do is to re main here with your obild, and hope for the best; it is your duty to your husband, who would ne»er forgive us if we suffered yoa to to do anything rash or come to harm on his account. I will go next door and let Frank have word that he is wanted immediately." " He will never let you go to the Mews," sighed Saber, still with her li«tening air. "Hark how the wind Wows ; and the snow is falling thicker tha* ever." "Let me \ There is no one whohastho right to prevent me,'' answered Amy, lacing up her thickest boo»e. " You are my sister, n*id Matt is my brother, just as though he wore my own ilesh and blood. To him of all men I owe loving service: I shall not fail him, Sabey." She would not fail him ; no one who could read faces, and had caucht sight of hers, so ready and steady, so tender and truo, could doubt of that. " Heaven bless yon 1" exclaimed > Sabey, throwing her anna about her sister's neck, ana bursting for the first time into a pas sion of tears. "My darling was always fond of you, Amy." " Don t, don't," cried the other earnestly; " do not let us unnerve one another. What love can do shall be done for Matt. Only, we will take Frankinto counselfirst, because he has a good head, and will tell us what is rest to be done."

(To be continued.)

The brnin is a very hungry thing indeed, and he who possesses it must constantly feed it by reading and thinking, or it will shrivel up or fall asleep.

Tho man who thinks to please the world

Is dullest of his kind— For lot, him face which way ho will

0; . -holt is yet behind. If you will follow thin rule you will save yourself many a heartache : " Never bite till you find out whether it is bread or stone." Men often judge the person but not tWS cause, which is not justice, but malice.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MARCH 18 ; 1882,

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