rations still unborn!"

"You are quite right, my dear aunt, your determination is excellent;
he deserves the utmost rigour of the law, and I promise you I shall be
the first to look out for him."

"Will you really promise that?" exclaimed Mistress Debora; and then
followed what I had dreaded might be the consequence of my generous
speech. She actually seized and embraced me!

"My dear nephew, you were always a good lad; your father was a worthy
man--I love all your family. Find out the murderer of my cat, and I
will bless you for it, even after your death!"

"I would rather bless _you_ under those circumstances," I thought, but
did not say it; and, promising to do all in my power to hasten the
_criminalis_ inquisition, she proceeded to enumerate her favourite's
merits--how he could purr, how he would leap on the table, and drink
coffee out of a saucer, how sagacious, and how knowing he was; and
then followed anecdotes illustrative of the virtues of her poor lost
cat, to all of which I listened with unheard-of patience.

I at length suggested the prudence of removing the object of her
emotion, and, after a most affecting scene, she consigned the precious
relics to my arms, to be buried under her window, and I took leave,
promising to return as soon as possible with some information relative
to the murderer.

I then buried the cat, and raised a monument of sods above its grave,
by which means I thoroughly ingratiated myself in Mistress Debora's
favour.

Meanwhile, she seemed to have forgotten that she had sent Esztike out
to watch for her father; and when, with a beating heart, I hurried to
the gate, I found my little charmer still there.

"For whom are you waiting so long?" I asked, by way of conversation.

"For my dear father," she replied, twisting the little tassel of her
apron.

"Poor little Esztike! how much you have to suffer from that old Mrs.
Debora!"

She did not speak, but the large tears filled her eyes.

It was then I first remarked how beautiful black eyes look when they
weep: tears do not become blue eyes, I like _them_ best when they
smile.

"Ah, Esztike! it should not be thus if--but I won't let you be annoyed
if I can help it, that I won't."

She did not answer. I confess I should not have liked if she had been
able to answer every word I said.

"Nobody loves me," I continued, "in the wide world: my life is very
lonely and sad; but surely Heaven will smile upon us yet."

My little d