not wish his uncle should have a warmer interest in his care than
duty?--it is duty alone which induces Mr. Dorriforth to provide for him;
but it is proper that affection should have some share in his
benevolence--and how, hereafter, will he be so fit an object of the love
which compassion excites, as he is at present?"

Miss Woodley acquiesced. But before they arrived at their own door it
came into Miss Milner's remembrance, that there was a grave sternness in
the manners of her guardian when provoked, the recollection of which
made her a little apprehensive for what she had done--her friend, who
knew him better than she did, was more so. They both became silent as
they approached the street where they lived--for Miss Woodley having once
represented her fears, and having suppressed them in resignation to Miss
Milner's better judgment, would not repeat them--and Miss Milner would
not confess they were now troubling her.

Just, however, as the coach stopped at the door, she had the forecast
and the humility to say, "We will not tell Mr. Dorriforth the child is
his nephew, unless he should appear fond, and pleased with him, and then
I think we may venture without any danger."

This was agreed; and when Dorriforth entered the room just before
dinner, poor Harry Rushbrook was introduced as the son of a lady who
frequently visited there. The deception passed--his uncle shook hands
with him, and at length highly pleased with his engaging manner, and
applicable replies, took him on his knee, and kissed him with affection.
Miss Milner could scarce restrain the joy it gave her; but unluckily,
Dorriforth said soon after to the child, "And now tell me your name."

"Harry Rushbrook," replied he, with force and clearness of voice.

Dorriforth was holding him fondly round the waist as he stood with his
feet upon his knees; and at this reply he did not _throw_ him from
him--but he removed his hands, which had supported him, so suddenly, that
the child, to prevent falling on the floor, threw himself about his
uncle's neck. Miss Milner and Miss Woodley turned aside to conceal their
tears. "I had like to have been down," cried Harry, fearing no other
danger. But his uncle took hold of each hand which had twined around
him, and placed him immediately on the ground. The dinner being that
instant served, he gave no greater marks of his resentment than calling
for his hat, and walking instantly out of the house.

Miss Milner cried for a