he is one of
the best young fellows I ever met in my life. I like him exceedingly."

"Does Mr. Warrington know anything about this--this affair?" asked
Helen. "He had been away, I know, for two months before it happened; Pen
wrote me so."

"Not a word--I--I've asked him about it. I've pumped him. He never heard
of the transaction, never; I pledge you my word," cried out the Major,
in some alarm. "And, my dear, I think you had much best not talk to him
about it--much best not--of course not: the subject is most delicate and
painful."

The simple widow took her brother's hand and pressed it. "Thank you,
brother," she said. "You have been very, very kind to me. You have given
me a great deal of comfort. I'll go to my room, and think of what you
have said. This illness and these--these emotions--have agitated me a
great deal; and I'm not very strong, you know. But I'll go and thank God
that my boy is innocent. He is innocent. Isn't he, sir?"

"Yes, my dearest creature, yes," said the old fellow, kissing her
affectionately, and quite overcome by her tenderness. He looked after
her as she retreated, with a fondness which was rendered more piquant,
as it were, by the mixture of a certain scorn which accompanied it.
"Innocent!" he said; "I'd swear, till I was black in the face, he was
innocent, rather than give that good soul pain."

Having achieved this victory, the fatigued and happy warrior laid
himself down on the sofa, and put his yellow silk pocket-handkerchief
over his face, and indulged in a snug little nap, of which the dreams,
no doubt, were very pleasant, as he snored with refreshing regularity.
The young men sate, meanwhile, dawdling away the sunshiny hours on the
terrace, very happy, and Pen, at least, very talkative. He was narrating
to Warrington a plan for a new novel, and a new tragedy. Warrington
laughed at the idea of his writing a tragedy? By Jove, he would show
that he could; and he began to spout some of the lines of his play.

The little solo on the wind instrument which the Major was performing
was interrupted by the entrance of Miss Bell. She had been on a visit
to her old friend, Lady Rockminster, who had taken a summer villa in the
neighbourhood; and who, hearing of Arthur's illness, and his mother's
arrival at Richmond, had visited the latter; and, for the benefit of the
former, whom she didn't like, had been prodigal of grapes, partridges,
and other attentions. For Laura the old lady had a gre