to creep in, under rule like yours. Yet I cannot
turn an old servant like your father adrift."

"You said we should consult the wishes of
the public," I interrupted; "I do not think the
English public would approve of such a thing."

"Do not be so vehement, my child,' said my father.

"I assure you," resumed Mr. Jermyn, "I am
only anxious to do the best for you. It is
impossible for your father to continue his active
superintendence of this office and the numerous
sub-offices; I have therefore decided to send you
an efficient head clerk, to take the principal
charge and responsibility; I shall obtain a grant
of 50l. a year for his salary, to which you must
add 30l.; thus your, father's salary will be
equivalent to a retiring pension of 100l. a year."

"Not at all," I exclaimed; "deduct 40l. rent,
which we must give in this part of the town,
and it leaves only 60l., for which two of his
daughters must work hard and constantly, in
health or sickness. Thirty pounds a year, clear
to him, leaving us at liberty to earn money in
our own way, would be far better. Pray do not
call it a retiring pension; call it by a right name
—an injustice."

I believe Mr. Jermyn really enjoyed my
indignant protests; it was no fault of his, and an
exhibition of spirit was. rather refreshing, to him.
For the rest of his stay he employed himself in
looking sharply into the office arrangements, and
requested that when the head clerk came, the
town letter-carrier should no longer assist in the
nightwork.

Richard Trevor, the clerk appointed to our
office by Mr. Jermyn, was a dark, fine-looking
young man, of agreeable and insinuating
manners; and, as he treated my father with
apparently profound respect and consideration, and
moreover professed to be of the same religious
denomination, he speedily won his entire
confidence. But Anna and I shrank from receiving
a perfect stranger into the daily and equal
intercourse that his position in our household
necessitated; and my apprehensions grew stronger
as I witnessed the influence he soon acquired over
my blind father, and my young sister, Ettie.

A few weeks after Mr. Trevor's arrival, while
he was one day absent inspecting some sub-
offices, I was making up the afternoon mail,
when a stranger entered the office abruptly from
the outer room, and grasping both; my hands
eagerly, exclaimed, "Dearest Anna, I see you
once again!"

I knew in a moment that the stranger before
me was Stephen Ellesmere, and I determined to
personate Anna for a few minutes; there was
nothing to agitate me, and I withdrew my hands,
saying coldly,

"You must allow me to attend to my business,
Mr. Ellesmere; the mail must be despatched."
I proceeded deliberately to tie and seal the
bags, and send them down to the station; and
then seating myself on a high stool before the
money-order desk, I assumed such an air of
saucy imperiousness as I imagined suitable to
our features, for we twin-sisters resembled one
another closely, though it was certainly an
expression very foreign to the modest, submissive
nature of my sister. I was in my own domain,
and I looked upon the intruder with a calmness
that chafed him greatly. With a ruler that I
had taken from the desk, I waved him to remain
at a distance, and asked,

"Do you wish to speak to me, Mr. Ellesmere?"

"You are not much altered in appearance," he
said, gloomily, with an unconscious emphasis on
the last word, "but you are keener and sharper
looking than you used to be. You are a woman
of the world now; you were a shy, domestic girl
six years since."

"Years effect wonderful changes," I answered.

"Not in me," he exclaimed—"never in me.
You are offended, and perhaps altogether
estranged, because I never wrote to you; would I
could tell you, dearest, how my mother, whom I
love only next to yourself, implored me to try what
absence would do, and how my father's anger
would have made home miserable for her as well
as myself, your kind heart would forgive me. I
stipulated with my mother that she should
always ascertain how you were, and tell me if you
changed to me so far as to favour the love of
another, I could rely upon her truth, and I
heard that you continued faithful to me. How
often when abroad, meeting only heartless women
of fashion, have I longed to be a poor man
for the sake of my true, pretty, home-like
Anna."

"You are a poor man," I said scornfully, with
a fresh wave of my ruler; "you are dependent
upon your father for the very bread you eat—
you, a man of two-and-thirty years! Moreover,
you are a selfish man, for so long as you
believed me to be faithful to you, you never
thought of the disappointment and suspense I
might be enduring."

"Listen to me," he continued, eagerly;
"when I left home, I was like the unjust
steward: I could not dig, and to beg I was
ashamed. I had been brought up to a life of pleasure
and indulgence, and so long as I had a hope
of my father's consent to our marriage I was
unwilling to relinquish my early customs. But
when I discovered that he could be inflexible,
and that our future happiness and my own truest
life depended upon my exertions, I sought to
qualify myself for independence. I have studied
the management of the banking business, and a
situation in a Scotch bank is now open to me. I
have come home to acquaint my father with my
plans, and, if he will still not hear me, and if you
yet love me, we will take our happiness into our
own hands. Another year of waiting, and then,
my Anna, will you not pardon my long silence and
give me the poor man's home I have so long
coveted?"

Stephen had drawn closer to me, for I had
dropped my ruler and hidden my face in my
hands in tearful gladness for my sister. His arm
was stealing round my waist, when I looked up
and said, slowly,

"But I am not Anna. I am Mary!"