med his sister, grasping his coat-sleeve.

"I will furnish the rooms over my office, and live there. It will be
more convenient for my business; but I dislike to leave you and the
dear old homestead."

"Stuff! You will churn the Atlantic, with the North Pole for a dasher!
Ulpian Grey! come weal come woe, I don't intend to give you up. Here,
right here, you will live while there is breath in my body,--unless
you wish to make me sob it out and die the sooner. Pooh! Salome's
shining eyes can not recompense me for the loss of my boy's blue ones,
and I will not hear of such nonsense as the move you propose. You
know, dear, I can't be here very long at the best, and while God
spares me I want you near me. Besides, the separation of a few miles
would not be worth a thimbleful of chaff; for, of course, Salome would
hear of or see you daily, and the change would amount to nothing but
anxiety and grief on my part. We will think the matter over, and do
nothing rashly. But try to be patient with my little girl; and, for my
sake, Ulpian, do not allow her to suspect that you dream of her
feeling towards you. It is pitiable,--it is distressing beyond
expression; and God knows, if I had thought for an instant that such a
state of things would ever have come to pass, I would have left her in
the poor-house sooner than have been instrumental in bringing such
misery upon her young life. Last night I was suffering so much with my
shoulder that I could not sleep, and I heard the child pacing her room
until after three o'clock. It was useless to question her; for, of
course, she would not confess the real cause, and I did not wish her
to know that I noticed what I could not cure. But, my dearest boy, we
are not to be blamed; so don't look so mortified and grieved. I would
not have opened your unsuspecting eyes if I had not feared that your
ignorance of the truth might increase the trouble, and I knew I could
safely appeal to my sailor-boy's honor. Now you know all, and must be
guided by your own good sense and delicacy in your future course
toward the poor, proud young thing. Be guarded, Ulpian, and don't
torment her by petting Muriel in her presence; for sometimes I am
afraid there is bad blood in her veins, that brings that wicked glow
to her eyes, and I dread that she might suddenly say or do some
desperate thing that would plunge us all in sorrow. You know she is
not a meek creature, and we must pity her weakness."

Dr. Grey had grown