id he die?"

"This evening, at sunset. 'Tis a bad piece of business, Mathews. He died
insolvent, and I am left without a penny."

"Alas, what will become of us all!" shrieked Mary, flinging herself
frantically upon the bed. "William, he has ceased to breathe. Our father
too is dead!"

The grief of the lower orders is generally loud and violent.
Unaccustomed to restrain their feelings, Nature lifts up her voice, and
tells, in tones which cannot be misunderstood, the blow which has left
her desolate. And so Mary Mathews poured forth the anguish of her soul
over the parent that, but a few days before, she had wished dead, to
conceal from him her guilt. Yet now that he was gone--that the strong
tie was broken, and her conscience reproached her for having cherished
for a moment the unnatural thought--she wept as if her heart had never
known a deeper sorrow. Her brother and lover strove in vain to comfort
her. She neither saw nor heeded them, but in a stern voice bade them
depart and leave her alone.

"The wilful creature! Let her have her own way, Mr. Godfrey. Grief like
that, like the down-pouring of a thunder-shower, soon storms itself to
rest. She will be better soon. Leave her to take care of the dead, while
you and I step into the kitchen and consult together about the living."

Godfrey, who had suffered much that day from mental excitement, felt
doubly depressed by the scene he had just witnessed, and gladly obeyed.

Mathews lighted a fresh candle, and led the way into the kitchen. The
fire that had been used to prepare the evening meal was nearly out;
Mathews raked the ashes together and threw a fresh billet into the
grate; then reaching from a small cupboard a bottle and a glass, he drew
a small table between them, and stretching his legs towards the cheering
blaze he handed a glass of brandy to his companion.

"Hang it, man! don't look so down in the mouth. This is the best friend
in time of need. This is my way of driving out the blue devils that
pinch and freeze my heart."

Godfrey eagerly seized the proffered glass and drained it at a draught.

"Well, that's what I call hearty!" continued the ruffian, following his
example. "There's nothing like that for killing care. I don't wonder at
your being low. I feel queer myself--devilish queer. It is a strange
thing to lose a father. A something is gone--a string is loosened from
the heart, which we feel can never be tied again. I wonder whether the
souls gone