ds there came a few
lines to his mother, telling her of the birth of a daughter, which was to
be called Marian, after her. This last letter came from Brussels."

"And did you hear no more of your son after this?" Gilbert asked.

"Nothing. I think his mother used to get letters from him in secret for
some time; that these failed suddenly at last; and that anxiety about her
worthless son--anxiety which she tried to hide from me--shortened her
life. She never complained, poor soul! never mentioned Percy's name until
the last, when she begged me to be kind to him if he should ever come to
throw himself upon my kindness. I gave her my promise that, if that came
to pass, he should find me a better friend to him than he deserved. It is
hard to refuse the last prayer of a faithful wife who has done her duty
patiently for nearly thirty years."

"Have you any reason to suppose your son still living?"

"I have no evidence of his death. Often and often, after my poor wife was
gone, I have sat alone here of a night thinking of him; thinking that he
might come in upon me at any moment; almost listening for his footstep in
the quiet of the place. But he never came. He would have found me very
soft-hearted at such times. My mind changed to him a good deal after his
mother's death. I used to think of him as he was in his boyhood, when
Marian and I had such great hopes of him, and would sit and talk of him
for hours together by this fireside. An old man left quite alone as I was
had plenty of time for such thoughts. Night after night I have fancied I
heard his step, and have looked up at that door expecting to see him open
it and come in; but he never came. He may be dead. I suppose he is dead;
or he would have come to make another attempt at getting money out of
me."

"You have never taken any measures for finding him?" inquired Gilbert.

"No. If he wanted me, he knew where I was to be found. _I_ was a fixture.
It was his business to come to me. When I saw the name of Marian Nowell
in your advertisement a week ago, I felt curious to know whether it could
be my grandchild you were looking for. I held off till this morning,
thinking it wasn't worth my while to make any inquiries about the matter;
but I couldn't get it out of my head somehow; and it ended by my
answering your advertisement. I am an old man, you see, without a
creature belonging to me; and it might be a comfort to me to meet with
some one of my own flesh and blood. The