her
executors, in certain events, to consult with me about the appointment
of a new guardian. One of those events has happened to-day; and I find
myself in a position to end all these dry business details, I hope
agreeably, with a message from my wife. Will you honour Mrs. Bruff by
becoming her guest? And will you remain under my roof, and be one of
my family, until we wise people have laid our heads together, and have
settled what is to be done next?"

At those words, I rose to interfere. Mr. Bruff had done exactly what
I had dreaded he would do, when he asked Mrs. Ablewhite for Rachel's
bonnet and shawl.

Before I could interpose a word, Rachel had accepted his invitation in
the warmest terms. If I suffered the arrangement thus made between
them to be carried out--if she once passed the threshold of Mr. Bruff's
door--farewell to the fondest hope of my life, the hope of bringing my
lost sheep back to the fold! The bare idea of such a calamity as
this quite overwhelmed me. I cast the miserable trammels of worldly
discretion to the winds, and spoke with the fervour that filled me, in
the words that came first.

"Stop!" I said--"stop! I must be heard. Mr. Bruff! you are not related
to her, and I am. I invite her--I summon the executors to appoint me
guardian. Rachel, dearest Rachel, I offer you my modest home; come to
London by the next train, love, and share it with me!"

Mr. Bruff said nothing. Rachel looked at me with a cruel astonishment
which she made no effort to conceal.

"You are very kind, Drusilla," she said. "I shall hope to visit you
whenever I happen to be in London. But I have accepted Mr. Bruff's
invitation, and I think it will be best, for the present, if I remain
under Mr. Bruff's care."

"Oh, don't say so!" I pleaded. "I can't part with you, Rachel--I can't
part with you!"

I tried to fold her in my arms. But she drew back. My fervour did not
communicate itself; it only alarmed her.

"Surely," she said, "this is a very unnecessary display of agitation? I
don't understand it."

"No more do I," said Mr. Bruff.

Their hardness--their hideous, worldly hardness--revolted me.

"Oh, Rachel! Rachel!" I burst out. "Haven't you seen yet, that my heart
yearns to make a Christian of you? Has no inner voice told you that I am
trying to do for you, what I was trying to do for your dear mother when
death snatched her out of my hands?"

Rachel advanced a step nearer, and looked at me very strangely.