t than such as was given to him by his own intellect, his own
heart, and his own conscience. It took him about an hour and a half
to reach his home, but of that time four-fifths were occupied, not in
resolving what he would do in this emergency, but in deep grumblings
and regrets that there should be such a thing to be done at all. All
new cares were grievous to him. Nay;--old cares were grievous, but
new cares were terrible. Though he was bold in deciding, he was very
timid in looking forward as to the results of that decision. Of
course the orphan girl must be taken into his house;--and of course
he must take upon himself the duty of a father in regard to her.

CHAPTER II.

POPHAM VILLA.

Popham Villa was the name of the house at Fulham,--as was to be seen
by all men passing by, for it was painted up conspicuously on the
pillars through which the gate led into the garden. Mr. Underwood,
when he had first taken the place, had wished to expunge the name,
feeling it to be cockneyfied, pretentious, and unalluring. But Mrs.
Underwood had rather liked it, and it remained. It was a subject of
ridicule with the two girls; but they had never ventured to urge
its withdrawal, and after his wife's death Sir Thomas never alluded
to the subject. Popham Villa it was, therefore, and there the
words remained. The house was unpretentious, containing only two
sitting-rooms besides a small side closet,--for it could hardly be
called more,--which the girls even in their mother's lifetime had
claimed as their own. But the drawing-room was as pretty as room
could be, opening on to the lawn with folding windows, and giving a
near view of the bright river as it flowed by, with just a glimpse
of the bridge. That and the dining-room and the little closet were
all on the ground floor, and above were at any rate as many chambers
as the family required. The girls desired no better house,--if only
their father could be with them. But he would urge that his books
were all in London; and that, even were he willing to move them,
there was no room for them in Popham Villa.

It was sad enough for the two girls,--this kind of life. The worst
of it, perhaps, was this; that they never knew when to expect him. A
word had been said once as to the impracticability of having dinner
ready for a gentleman, when the gentleman would never say whether
he would want a dinner. It had been an unfortunate remark, for Sir
Thomas had taken advantage of it by