ng to twinkle away a tear from his large gray eyes.

"Oh, dear me! dear, kind Mr. Fielding!" cried May, weeping on Mr.
Fielding's shoulder; "I hope Heavenly Father will bless you for your
kind intentions to a friendless orphan; but, indeed, sir, I cannot
say--I don't think it would suit me to be dependent."

"Who wants you to be dependent?" roared out Mr. Fielding; "I'll _hire_
you, if that will suit you better, to keep house, mend my stockings,
and make tea for me; _that_ will board you, and your splendid annuity
will clothe you."

"I will tell you in a few days, sir. I have not quite decided what I
shall do. I am so tossed and worried now I can think of nothing
clearly," sobbed May.

"Let us go down, sir, and go on with the business which brought us
here," said Mr. Fielding, while he lifted May's head gently up from his
shoulder. "Whatever you decide on, May Brooke, remember that I am
_your protector_, _defender_, and _friend_."

And so May was blamed for the loss of the will. Grieving more for the
solid benefits which were lost to the poor and destitute,--for the alms
which would have sent up incense to heaven in behalf of the soul of the
giver,--May thought not of herself, only so far as to vow her energies,
her labors, her life, to the good of those who, through her
heedlessness, had been injured. She was not clear that she did not
burn the will; she _thought_ she had not done so, but she would not,
for the world, have taken an oath to that effect. It is not to be
supposed, however, that so shrewd a man as Mr. Fielding, and a man so
experienced in all the devious and sinuous windings of the human heart
as Father Fabian, were without their suspicions, but the one through
policy, and the other through charity, forebore to express in words
what they were not prepared to prove by legal facts.

May kept her plans to herself, and in her matter-of-fact way set the
house in order, and arranged, day after day, every article in its
particular place; and was scrupulously exact that not a scrap of old
lumber, cracked china, broken spoons, or half-worn linen, should be
missing on the day of the sale. Helen, quite unconcerned about such
homely matters, dashed about in Mrs. Jerrold's carriage from morning
until night, making splendid purchases, and indulged in all those
expensive tastes which her natural love for the beautiful, and her
undisciplined will, made so necessary to her happiness. Happiness!
Could she in