e order, and the addresses of her
friends, with a pretty little attempt at the businesslike; but, this
done, she burst out, "and we all entreat you to be good to poor Mr.
Little, and protect him against the wicked, cruel, abominable Unions."

These sweet words made his heart beat violently, and brought the tears
of tenderness into his eyes. He kissed the words again and again. He put
them into his bosom, and took them out again, and gloated over them till
they danced before his manly eyes. Then his love took another turn: he
started up, and marched and strutted, like a young stag, about the
room, with one hand pressing the paper to his bosom. Why had he said
Wednesday? It could all have been got ready on Tuesday. No matter, he
would make up for that lost day. He was on the road, once more, the road
to fortune, and to her.

Cheetham came in, and found him walking excitedly, with the paper in his
hand, and of course took the vulgar view of his emotion.

"Ay, lad," said he, "and they are all swells, I promise you. There's
Miss Laura Craske. That's the mayor's daughter. Lady Betty Tyrone. She's
a visitor. Miss Castleton! Her father is the county member."

"And who is this Mr. Coventry?" asked Henry.

"Oh, he is a landed gentleman, but spends his tin in Hillsborough; and
you can't blame him. Mr. Coventry? Why, that is Miss Carden's intended."

"Her intended!" gasped Henry.

"I mean her beau. The gentleman she is going to marry, they say."

Henry Little turned cold, and a tremor ran through him; but he did not
speak a word; and, with Spartan fortitude, suppressed all outward sign
of emotion. He laid the paper down patiently, and went slowly away.

Loyal to his friend even in this bitter moment, he called at Bayne's
place and left word with the landlady that Mr. Bayne was not wanted at
the works any more that day.

But he could not bear to talk to Bayne about his plans. They had lost
their relish. He walked listlessly away, and thought it all over.

For the first time he saw his infatuation clearly. Was ever folly like
his? If she had been a girl in humble life, would he not have asked
whether she had a sweetheart? Yet he must go and give his heart to a
lady without inquiry. There, where wisdom and prudence were most needed,
he had speculated like an idiot. He saw it, and said to himself, "I have
acted like a boy playing at pitch-farthing, not like a man who knew the
value of his heart."

And so he passed a misera