his
boy, signed to her to sit down, and patiently answered her inquiries and
regrets, asking a few civil questions in his turn.

Then he exerted himself to say, 'I hope to do my best for him and for
you, Mrs. Murrell, but I can make no promises; I am entirely dependent at
present, and I do not know whether I may not be so for life.'

Whereat, and at the settled mournful look with which it was spoken, Mrs.
Murrell burst out crying, and little Owen hung on her, almost crying too.
Honor, who had been lying in wait for Owen's protection, came hastily in
and made a clearance, Owen again reaching out his hand, which he laid on
the child's head, so as to turn up the face towards him for a moment.
Then releasing it almost immediately, he rested his chin on his hand, and
Honor heard him mutter under his moustache, 'Flibbertigibbet!'

'When we go home, we will take little Owen with us,' said Honor, kindly.
'It is high time he was taken from Little Whittington-street. Country
air will soon make a different-looking child of him.'

'Thank you,' he answered, despondingly. 'It is very good in you; but
have you not troubles enough already?

'He shall not be a trouble, but a pleasure.'

'Poor little wretch! He must grow up to work, and to know that he must
work while he can;' and Owen passed his hand over those useless fingers
of his as though the longing to be able to work were strong on him.

Honor had agreed with Lucilla that father and son ought to be together,
and that little 'Hoeing's' education ought to commence. Cilla insisted
that all care of him should fall to her. She was in a vehement,
passionate mood of self-devotion, more overset by hearing that her
brother would be a cripple for life than by what appeared to her the less
melancholy doom of an early death. She had allowed herself to hope so
much from his improvement on the voyage, that what to Honor was
unexpected gladness was to her grievous disappointment. Mr. Prendergast
arrived to find her half captious, half desperate.

See Owen! Oh, no! he must not think of it. Owen had seen quite people
enough to-day; besides, he would be letting all out to him as he had done
the other day.

Poor Mr. Prendergast humbly apologized for his betrayal; but had not Owen
been told of the engagement?

Oh, dear, no! He was in no state for fresh agitations. Indeed, with
him, a miserable, helpless cripple, Lucy did not see how she could go on
as before. She could not des