nd yourself; and a fresh access of
emotional excitement, all the nervous anxiety of a journey to London on
such a business, might have ended in a paralytic or epileptic affection.
Now we have him here snug; and the worst news we can give him will be
better than what he will make up his mind for. But you don't eat."

"Eat! How can I? My poor father!"

"The effect of grief upon the gastric juices, through the nervous
system, is very remarkable," said Mr. Squills, philosophically, and
helping himself to a broiled bone; "it increases the thirst, while it
takes away hunger. No--don't touch port!--heating! Sherry and water."

CHAPTER IV.

The house-door had closed upon Mr. Squills,--that gentleman having
promised to breakfast with me the next morning, so that we might
take the coach from our gate,--and I remained alone, seated by the
supper-table, and revolving all I had heard, when my father walked in.

"Pisistratus," said he gravely, and looking round him, "your
mother!--suppose the worst--your first care, then, must be to try and
secure something for her. You and I are men,--we can never want, while
we have health of mind and body; but a woman--and if anything happens to
me--"

My father's lip writhed as it uttered these brief sentences.

"My dear, dear father!" said I, suppressing my tears with difficulty,
"all evils, as you yourself said, look worse by anticipation. It is
impossible that your whole fortune can be involved. The newspaper did
not run many weeks, and only the first volume of your work is printed.
Besides, there must be other shareholders who will pay their quota.
Believe me, I feel sanguine as to the result of my embassy. As for my
poor mother, it is not the loss of fortune that will wound her,--depend
on it, she thinks very little of that,--it is the loss of your
confidence."

"My confidence!"

"Ah, yes! tell her all your fears, as your hopes. Do not let your
affectionate pity exclude her from one corner of your heart."

"It is that, it is that, Austin,--my husband--my joy--my pride--my
soul--my all!" cried a soft, broken voice.

My mother had crept in, unobserved by us.

My father looked at us both, and the tears which had before stood in his
eyes forced their way. Then opening his arms, into which his Kitty threw
herself joyfully, he lifted those moist eyes upward, and by the movement
of his lips I saw that he thanked God.

I stole out of the room. I felt that those two hearts shoul