n to a breaking heart--at
any rate it did to Job's. "My dear fellow!" exclaimed the welcome
visitor, "how on earth did you allow things to come to this pass without
even hinting any thing of the kind to me? I never heard it till the day
I left town. How could you return me the remittance I sent you, which
should have been ten times as much had I known the full extent of your
wants? But enough of this now; we won't waste time in regrets for the
past, and as for the future, leave that to me. I'll soon set things all
straight and smooth again for you. And now, my dear Mrs Vivian," added
he, addressing himself to Jessie, "do you go and do as you promised."

Jessie smiled assent, and, looking quite happy again, she took her two
daughters by the hand and led them out of the room.

"But, my dear Smith," said Job, as soon as the two friends were alone,
"you can have no idea how deeply I am involved. I can tax your
generosity no further--even what you have already done for me, I can
never repay."

"Nor do I intend you ever shall," rejoined the worthy attorney--for
such was Mr Smith--"particularly," he added, "as there's a certain debt
I owe you, which I neither can nor will repay, and that I candidly tell
you."

"Indeed! what do you mean?" asked Job, looking very puzzled; "I'm rather
dull of apprehension to-day." And verily he was so, for his troubles had
wellnigh driven him mad.

"My life, Job, that's all," replied the attorney; "_that_ I owe to you,
and can't repay you--and won't either, that's more. Had it not been for
your skill," he added in a graver tone, "and the firmness you displayed
in resolutely opposing the treatment those two blackguards, Dunderhead
and Quackem, wished to adopt in my case, I must have died a most
distressing and painful death, and my poor wife and children would have
been left perfectly destitute."

The consciousness of the truth of this grateful remark infused a
cheering glow to Job's broken spirit, and even raised a faint smile upon
his care-worn countenance; which his visitor perceiving, went on to say,
"And now, my good doctor, owing you so deep a debt of gratitude as I do,
make your mind easy about the past; what you've had from me is a mere
trifle. Why, my good fellow, I'm not the poor unhappy dog I was when you
told me never to mind when I paid you. I'm now getting on in the world,
and shall fancy by and by that I'm getting rich; and, what's more, I
expect soon to see my friend Job Viv