appearance to the whole countenance.

"There is twelve o'clock--give me my drops again, Lizzie," he remarked,
faintly. At the sound of his voice Lizzie emerged from behind the curtains,
and essayed to pour into a glass the proper quantity of medicine. She was
twice obliged to pour back into the phial what she had just emptied forth,
as the trembling of her hands caused her each time to drop too much; at
last, having succeeded in getting the exact number of drops, she handed him
the glass, the contents of which he eagerly drank.

"There!" said he, "thank you; now, perhaps, I may sleep. I have not slept
for two nights--such has been my anxiety about that man; nor you either, my
child--I have kept you awake also. You can sleep, though, without drops.
To-morrow, when you are prepared to start, wake me, if I am asleep, and let
me speak to you before you go. Remember, Lizzie, frighten him if you can!
Tell him, I am ill myself--that I can't survive this continued worriment
and annoyance. Tell him, moreover, I am not made of gold, and will not be
always giving. I don't believe he is sick--dying--do you?" he asked,
looking into her face, as though he did not anticipate an affirmative
answer.

"No, father, I don't think he is really ill; I imagine it is another
subterfuge to extract money. Don't distress yourself unnecessarily; perhaps
I may have some influence with him--I had before, you know!"

"Yes, yes, dear, you managed him very well that time--very well," said he,
stroking down her hair affectionately. "I--I--my child, I could never have
told you of that dreadful secret; but when I found that you knew it all, my
heart experienced a sensible relief. It was a selfish pleasure, I know; yet
it eased me to share my secret; the burden is not half so heavy now."

"Father, would not your mind be easier still, if you could be persuaded to
make restitution to his children? This wealth is valueless to us both. You
can never ask forgiveness for the sin whilst you cling thus tenaciously to
its fruits."

"Tut, tut--no more of that!" said he, impatiently; "I cannot do it without
betraying myself. If I gave it back to them, what would become of you and
George, and how am I to stop the clamours of that cormorant? No, no! it is
useless to talk of it--I cannot do it!"

"There would be still enough left for George, after restoring them their
own, and you might give this man my share of what is left. I would rather
work day and night," sa