nxiously for the money which would enable her to prepare for such an
event. Anxiously as she waited, it never came, and Jaggers, to whom it
was to have been directed, advanced her a sovereign, as he said, "out of
his small means," and then lost sight of her, for she and her father had
moved into other lodgings, where the managing clerk could scarcely
trouble himself to go, unless he had good news to take with him. Indeed,
he had so much to occupy his attention, that some months had elapsed
since he had seen Agnes; once only he had written a short reply to a
note imploring him to say whether any remittance had arrived; but how
could he spare time to attend to such matters when Mr. Dryce was every
week taking a less active part in the business, and the Christmas
quarter was stealing on with the balance-sheet not even thought of in
the press of country orders. Mr. Richard Dryce was still hale and
active; but those who knew him best, thought that he was breaking. His
voice was less harsh, his hair had turned from iron-gray to white, and
in his face there was an anxious look as of one who waits for something
that does not come. Once or twice old acquaintances ventured to ask
after his son, but he shook his head, and said that he knew nothing of
him; he had written to his last address, but had received no reply.

It was cold dull wintry weather, and the old man looked so solitary,
that one or two tried to rally him, and even asked him to come and dine
or spend the evening with them, to which he responded by his old harsh
laugh, and putting on his worsted gloves, trudged home through the snow.

[Illustration: MR. DRYCE'S PETITION ANSWERED.]

One morning he awoke early, almost before daylight had penetrated the
dull rooms where he lived, and had a sudden fancy to walk into the
church. It was already daylight in the streets, but the interior of St.
Simon Swynherde was dim with mist and with the obscurity of the high
windows. He could only just see the pillars and the organ, where his own
name had been painted in gilt letters since the time that he had been
churchwarden and helped to restore it. Even as he looked up at it, the
notes of the Christmas hymn came trembling into the chill morning air,
for the organist had come there to practise, and expected the parish
school children to come in to sing at a morning service. To most people
there might have been nothing in the place or its associations to evoke
much gentle feeling; bu