remain in
the position you were once kind enough to procure for me. And now that
is all I believe, sir."

Mr. Sylvester dropped his eyes from the bare walls over which they had
been restlessly wandering, and fixed them for a passing moment on the
countenance of the man before him. Then with a grave action he lifted
his hat from his head, and bowed with the deference he might have shown
to one of his proudest colleagues, and without another look or word,
quietly left the room.

Hopgood in his surprise stared after him somewhat awe-struck. But when
the door had quite closed, he caught up his child almost passionately in
his arms, and crushing her against his breast, asked, while his eye
roamed round the humble room that in its warmth and comfort was a palace
to him, "Will he take the first opportunity to have me dismissed, or
will his heart forgive the expression of my momentary doubts, for the
sake of this poor wee one that he so tenderly fancies?"

The question did not answer itself, and indeed it was one to which time
alone could reply.

BOOK III.

THE JAPHA MYSTERY.

XXIII.

THE POEM.

"I've shot my arrow o'er the house
And hurt my brother."

--HAMLET.

When Miss Belinda first saw Paula, she did not, like her sister, remark
upon the elegance of her appearance, the growth of her beauty, or the
evidences of increased refinement in the expression of her countenance
and the carriage of her form, but with her usual penetration noted
simply, the sadness in her eye and the tremulous motion of her lip.

"You had then become fond of your cousin?" queried she with
characteristic bluntness.

Paula not understanding the motive of this remark, questioned her with a
look.

"Young faces do not grow pale or bright eyes become troubled without a
cause. Grief for your cousin might explain it, but if you have suffered
from no grief--"

"My cousin was very kind to me," hurriedly interrupted Paula. "Her death
was very sudden and very heart-rending."

"So it was;" returned Miss Belinda, "and I expected to see you look worn
and sad but not restless and feverish. You have a living grief, Paula,
what is it?"

The young girl started and looked down. For the first time in her life
she wished to avoid that penetrating glance. "If I have, I cannot talk
of it," she murmured. "I have experienced so much this past week; my
coming away was so unexpected, that I hardly understand my own feelings,
or r