result was to be ruin--ruin unmitigated to the small man who was in
business, and equally disastrous, though in a less creditable way, to
his employer. It was with a suppressed anguish which is indescribable
that he sat there, with his face covered, looking this approaching
misery in the face. How long he had been there, he could scarcely
himself tell, when he heard a little commotion in the hall, the sounds
of running up and down stairs, and opening of doors. He was in a
feverish and restless condition, and every stir roused him. Partly
because of that impatience in his mind, and partly because every new
thing seemed to have some possibility of hope in it, he got up and went
to the door. Before he returned to his seat, something might have
occurred to him, something might have happened--who could tell? It might
be the postman with a letter containing that remittance from James,
which still would set all right. It might be--he rose suddenly, and
opening the door, held it ajar and looked out; the front door was open,
and the night air blowing chilly into the house, and on the stairs,
coming down, he heard the voices of Ursula and Phoebe. Ursula was pinning
a shawl round her new friend, and consoling her.

"I hope you will find it is nothing. I am so sorry," she said.

"Oh, I am not very much afraid," said Phoebe. "She is ill, but not very
bad, I hope; and it is not dangerous. Thank you so much for letting me
come."

"You will come again?" said Ursula, kissing her; "promise that you will
come again."

Mr. May listened with a certain surface of amusement in his mind. How
easy and facile these girlish loves and fancies were! Ursula knew
nothing of this stranger, and yet so free were the girl's thoughts, so
open her heart to receive impressions, that on so short knowledge she
had received the other into it with undoubting confidence and trust. He
did not come forward himself to say good-bye, but he perceived that
Reginald followed downstairs, and took his hat from the table, to
accompany Phoebe home. As they closed the outer door behind them, the
last gust thus forcibly shut in made a rush through the narrow hall, and
carried a scrap of paper to Mr. May's feet. He picked it up almost
mechanically, and carried it with him to the light, and looked at it
without thought. There was not much in it to interest any one. It was
the little note which Tozer had sent to his granddaughter by the maid,
not prettily folded, to begin