him on the past. He contented himself
with saying, as briefly as possible, that he had served in a foreign
service, and acquired what sufficed him for an independence; and then,
with the ease which a man picks up in the great world, turned the
conversation to the prospects of the family whose guest he was. Having
listened with due attention to Mrs. Morton's eulogies on Tom, who had
been sent for, and who drank the praises on his own gentility into a
very large pair of blushing ears,--also, to her self-felicitations on
Miss Margaret's marriage,--item, on the service rendered to the town by
Mr. Roger, who had repaired the town-hall in his first mayoralty at his
own expense,--item, to a long chronicle of her own genealogy, how she
had one cousin a clergyman, and how her great-grandfather had been
knighted,--item, to the domestic virtues of all her children,--item, to
a confused explanation of the chastisement inflicted on Sidney, which
Philip cut short in the middle; he asked, with a smile, what had become
of the Plaskwiths. "Oh!" said Mrs. Morton, "my brother Kit has retired
from business. His son-in-law, Mr. Plimmins, has succeeded."

"Oh, then, Plimmins married one of the young ladies?"

"Yes, Jane--she bad a sad squint!--Tom, there is nothing to laugh
at,--we are all as God made us,--'Handsome is as handsome does,'--she
has had three little uns!"

"Do they squint too?" asked Philip; and Miss Margaret giggled, and Tom
roared, and the other young men roared too. Philip had certainly said
something very witty.

This time Mrs. Morton administered no reproof; but replied pensively

"Natur is very mysterious--they all squint!"

Mr. Morton conducted Philip to his chamber. There it was, fresh, clean,
unaltered--the same white curtains, the same honeysuckle paper as when
Catherine had crept across the threshold.

"Did Sidney ever tell you that his mother placed a ring round his neck
that night?" asked Mr. Morton.

"Yes; and the dear boy wept when he said that he had slept too soundly
to know that she was by his side that last, last time. The ring--oh,
how well I remember it! she never put it off till then; and often in the
fields--for we were wild wanderers together in that day--often when his
head lay on my shoulder, I felt that ring still resting on his heart,
and fancied it was a talisman--a blessing. Well, well-good night to
you!" And he shut the door on his uncle, and was alone.

CHAPTER IV.

"The