to the triumph of his favoured young rival. This gentleman, issuing from
his carriage with his card-case ready in his hand, met Amelius at
the door, with a face which announced plainly that a catastrophe had
happened. "You have heard the sad news, no doubt?" he said, in a rich
bass voice attuned to sadly courteous tones. The servant opened the
door before Amelius could answer. After a contest of politeness, the
middle-aged gentleman consented to make his inquiries first. "How is Mr.
Farnaby? No better? And Miss Regina? Very poorly, oh? Dear, dear me!
Say I called, if you please." He handed in two cards, with a severe
enjoyment of the melancholy occasion and the rich bass sounds of his
own voice. "Very sad, is it not?" he said, addressing his youthful
rival with an air of paternal indulgence. "Good morning." He bowed with
melancholy grace, and got into his carriage.

Amelius looked after the prosperous merchant, as the prancing horses
drew him away. "After all," he thought bitterly, "she might be happier
with that rich prig than she could be with me." He stepped into the
hall, and spoke to the servant. The man had his message ready. Miss
Regina would see Mr. Goldenheart, if he would be so good as to wait in
the dinning-room.

Regina appeared, pale and scared; her eyes inflamed with weeping. "Oh,
Amelius, can you tell me what this dreadful misfortune means? Why has
she left us? When she sent for you yesterday, what did she say?"

In his position, Amelius could make but one answer. "Your aunt said she
thought of going away. But," he added, with perfect truth, "she refused
to tell me why, or where she was going. I am quite as much at a loss to
understand her as you are. What does your uncle propose to do?"

Mr. Farnaby's conduct, as described by Regina, thickened the mystery--he
proposed to do nothing.

He had been found on the hearth-rug in his dressing-room; having
apparently been seized with a fit, in the act of burning some paper.
The ashes were discovered close by him, just inside the fender. On his
recovery, his first anxiety was to know if a letter had been burnt.
Satisfied on this point, he had ordered the servants to assemble round
his bed, and had peremptorily forbidden them to open the door to their
mistress, if she ever returned at any future time to the house. Regina's
questions and remonstrances, when she was left alone with him, were
answered, once for all, in these pitiless terms:--"If you wish to
des