t her glance. "If there was any ground for alarm, should I
not go myself every day?" said he, gravely, and even tenderly.

"Forgive me," said the widow, and gave him her hand with a sweet and
womanly gesture.

The main difficulty was now got over; and Dr. Amboyne was careful not to
say too much, for he knew that his tongue moved among pitfalls.

As Dr. Amboyne descended the stairs, the landlady held a door ajar, and
peeped at him, according to a custom of such delicate-minded females as
can neither restrain their curiosity nor indulge it openly. Dr. Amboyne
beckoned to her, and asked for a private interview. This was promptly
accorded.

"Would ten guineas be of any service to you, madam?"

"Eh, dear, that it would, sir. Why, my rent is just coming due."

Under these circumstances, the bargain was soon struck. Not a syllable
about the explosion at Cheetham's was to reach the second floor lodger's
ears, and no Hillsborough journal was to mount the stairs until the
young man's return. If inquired for, they were to be reported all sold
out, and a London journal purchased instead.

Having secured a keen and watchful ally in this good woman, who, to do
her justice, showed a hearty determination to earn her ten guineas, Dr.
Amboyne returned home, his own philosophic pulse beating faster than it
had done for some years.

He had left Mrs. Little grateful, and, apparently, in good spirits;
but, ere he had been gone an hour, the bare separation from her son
overpowered her, and a host of vague misgivings tortured her, and
she slept but little that night. By noon next day she was thoroughly
miserable; but Dr. Amboyne's man rode up to the door in the afternoon
with a cheerful line from Henry.

"All right, dear mother. Better already. Letter by post.

"Henry."

She detained the man, and made up a packet of things for Cairnhope, and
gave him five shillings to be sure and take them.

This was followed by a correspondence, a portion of which will suffice
to eke out the narrative.

"DEAREST MOTHER,--I slept ill last night, and got up aching from head
to foot, as if I had been well hided. But they sent me to the top of
Cairnhope Peak, and, what with the keen air and the glorious view, I
came home and ate like a hog. That pleased Martha Dence, and she kept
putting me slices off her own plate, till I had to cry quarter. As soon
as I have addressed this letter, I'm off to bed, for it is all I can do
not to fall asleep s