arkham. 'You sent me to Miss
Wellwood's, at St. Mildred's. The principal was not within, and while
waiting for her to make the payment, I got into conversation with her
sister, Miss Jane. She told me that the child, Mr. Dixon's daughter,
was always talking of your kindness, especially of a morning at St.
Mildred's, when you helped him in some difficulty. I thought this threw
some light on the matter, found out Mr. Dixon this morning, and you see
the result.'

'I do, indeed,' said Guy; 'I wish I could attempt to thank you all.'

'Thanks enough for me to see you look like yourself,' said Markham. 'Did
you think I was going to sit still and leave you in the mess you had got
yourself into, with your irregularity about keeping your accounts?'

'And to you,' said Guy, looking at his uncle, as if it was especially
pleasant to be obliged to him. 'You never can guess what I owe to you!'

'Nay, I deserve no thanks at all,' said Sebastian, 'since I was the
means of bringing the imputation on you; and I am sure it is enough for
a wretch like me, not to have brought only misery wherever I turn--to
have done something to repair the evil I have caused. Oh, could I but
bring back your father to what he was when first I saw him as you are
now!'

He was getting into one of those violent fits of self-reproach, at once
genuine and theatrical, of which Guy had a sort of horror, and it was
well Mr. Edmonstone broke in, like comedy into tragedy.

'Come, what's past can't be helped, and I have no end of work to be
done, so there's speechifying enough for once. Mr. Dixon, you must not
be going. Sit down and look over the newspaper, while we sign these
papers. You must dine with us, and drink your nephew's health, though it
is not his real birthday.'

Guy was much pleased that Mr. Edmonstone should have given this
invitation, as well as with the consideration Markham had shown for
Dixon in his narration. Mr. Dixon, who had learnt to consider parents
and guardians as foes and tyrants, stammered and looked confused
and enraptured; but it appeared that he could not stay, for he had a
professional engagement. He gave them an exhortation to come to the
concert where he was employed, and grew so ardent in his description of
it, that Guy could have wished to go; but his companions were in haste
to say there was far too much to do. And the next moment Guy told
himself, that Mr. Edmonstone's good-natured face and joyous 'eh, Guy?'
were more to hi