ith poor Mrs. Sturk's invitation to Mr.
Dangerfield to walk up.

Up he went, leaving his white surtout and cocked hat in the hall, and
entered the chamber where pale little Mrs. Sturk, who had been crying a
great deal, sat in a dingy old tabby saque, by the light of a solitary
mould-candle at the bed-side of the noble Barney.

The mutton-fat wanted snuffing; but its light danced and splintered
brilliantly over Mr. Dangerfield's resplendent shoe-buckles, and up and
down his cut-steel buttons, and also glimmered in a more phosphoric way
upon his silver spectacles, as he bowed at the door, arrayed in a puce
cut velvet coat, lined with pink, long embroidered satin waistcoat, fine
lace ruffles and cravat, his well-shaped leg gleaming glossily in silk,
and altogether, in his glimmering jewellery, and purple and fine linen,
resembling Dives making a complimentary visit to the garret of Lazarus.

Poor little Mrs. Sturk felt her obligations mysteriously enlarged by so
much magnificence, and wondered at the goodness of this white-headed
angel in point, diamonds, and cut velvet, who had dropped from the upper
regions upon the sad and homely floor of her Barney's sick chamber.

'Dr. Dillon not yet arrived, Madam? Well, 'tis precisely his hour; we
shall have him soon. How does the patient? Ha! just as usual. How?--why
there's a change, isn't there?'

'As how, Sir?' enquired Mrs. Sturk, with a scared look.

'Why, don't you see? But you mustn't be frightened; there's one coming
in whom I have every confidence.'

'I don't see, Sir. What is it, Mr. Dangerfield? Oh, _pray_, Sir?'

'Why--a--nothing very particular, only he looks more languid than when I
saw him last, and discoloured somewhat, and his face more sunk, I
think--eh?'

'Oh, no, Sir--'tis this bad light--nothing more, indeed, Sir. This
evening, I assure you, Mr. Dangerfield, at three o'clock, when the sun
was shining, we were all remarking how well he looked. I never
saw--you'd have said so--such a wonderful improvement.'

And she snuffed the candle, and held it up over Barney's grim features.

'Well, Madam, I hope we soon may find it. 'Twill be a blessed
sight--eh?--when he sits up in that bed, Madam, as I trust he may this
very night, and speak--eh?'

'Oh! my precious Barney!' and the poor little woman began to cry, and
fell into a rhapsody of hopes, thanksgiving, anecdote and prayer.

In the meanwhile Dangerfield was feeling his pulse, with his watch in
the ho