the park, and the aspect of the house assured him that at least he was
not again too late.

The servant who answered the bell said that Mr. Dynevor was very ill,
and Miss Dynevor could see no one. James sent in his card, and stood
in an agony of impatience, imagining all and more than all he deserved,
to have taken place--his uncle either dying, or else forcibly
withholding his sister from him.

At last there was a hurried step, and the brother and sister were
clasping each other in speechless joy.

'O Jem! dear Jem! this is so kind!' cried Clara, as with arms round
each other they crossed the hall. 'Now I don't care for anything!'

'My uncle?'

'Much better,' said Clara; 'he speaks quite well again, and his foot is
less numb.'

'Was it paralysis?'

'Yes; brought on by trouble and worry of mind. But how did you know,
Jem?'

'Richardson told me. Oh, Clara, had I offended too deeply for you to
summon me?'

'No, indeed,' said Clara, pressing his arm, 'I knew you would help us
as far as you could; but to throw ourselves on you would be robbing the
children, so I wanted to have something fixed before you heard.'

'My poor child, what could be fixed?'

'You gave me what is better than house and land,' said Clara. 'I wrote
to Miss Brigham; she will give me employment in the school till I can
find a place as daily governess, and she is to take lodgings for us.'

'And is this what it has come to, my poor Clara?'

'Oh, don't pity me! my heart has felt like an India-rubber ball ever
since the crash. Even poor Uncle Oliver being so ill could not keep me
from feeling as if the burthen were off my back, and I were little
Clara Frost again. It seemed to take away the bar between us; and so
it has! O Jem! this is happiness. Tell me of Isabel and the babies.'

'You will come home to them. Do you think my uncle would consent?'

She answered with an embrace, a look of rapture and of doubt, and then
a negative. 'Oh, no, we cannot be a burthen on you. You have quite
enough on your hands. And, oh! you have grown so spare and thin. I
mean to maintain my uncle, if--' and her spirited bearing softened into
thoughtfulness, as if the little word conveyed that she meant not to be
self-confident.

'But, Clara, is this actual ruin? I know only what Richardson could
tell me.'

'I do not fully understand,' said Clara. 'It had been plain for a long
time that something was on Uncle Oliver's mind; he was so restless