trouble; but you--you have been friend, parent,
lover, and guardian angel to me. And, oh, how little I have done to
deserve it all!"

"Well, dear, the mother you value so highly, her name was Raby. Yes,
love; and, forgive me, I honor and love my mother's name even more
than I do the name of Little"--(the tears ran out of her eyes at this
falsehood)--"pray take it, to oblige me, and reconcile me to my dear
brother, and end our troubles forever." Then she wept on his neck, and
he cried with her.

After a while, he said, "I feel my manhood all melting away together.
I am quite confused. It is hard to give up a noble game. It is hard to
refuse such a mother as you. Don't cry any more, for mercy's sake! I'm
like to choke. Mind, crying is work I'm not used to. What does SHE say?
I am afraid I shall win her, but lose her respect."

"She says she admires your pride; but you have shown enough. If you
refuse any longer, she will begin to fear you don't love her as well as
she loves you."

This master-stroke virtually ended the battle. Henry said nothing, but
the signs of giving way were manifest in him, so manifest that Mrs.
Little became quite impatient for the doctor's arrival to crown all.

He drove up to the door at last, and Henry ran out and brought him in.
He looked pale, and sat down exhausted.

Mrs. Little restrained her impatience, and said, "We are selfish
creatures to send you on our business before you are half well."

"I am well enough in health," said he, "but I am quite upset."

"What is the matter? Surely you have not failed? Guy does not refuse his
forgiveness?"

"No, it is not that. Perhaps, if I had been in time--but the fact is,
Guy Raby has left England."

"What, for good? Impossible!"

"Who can tell? All I know is that he has sold his horses, discharged his
servants all but one, and gone abroad without a word. I was the friend
of his youth--his college chum; he must be bitterly wounded to go away
like that, and not even let me know."

Mrs. Little lifted up her hands. "What have we done? what have we done?
Wounded! no wonder. Oh, my poor, wronged, insulted brother!"

She wept bitterly, and took it to heart so, it preyed on her health and
spirits. She was never the same woman from that hour.

While her son and her friend were saying all they could to console her,
there appeared at the gate the last man any of them ever expected to
see--Mr. Bolt.

Henry saw him first, and said so.

"Keep