called Grainger—Miss or Mrs., I forget which—
who is she, and why does she know us, and call
us the 'dear Calverts,' and your house 'sweet
old Rocksley?' I fancy she must be a begging-letter
impostor, and has a design—it will be a
very abortive one—upon my spare five-pound
notes. Tell me all you know of her, and if you
can add a word about her nieces twain—one
pretty, the other prettier—do so.

"Any use in approaching my uncle with a
statement of my distresses—mind, body, and
estate? I owe him so much gratitude that, if
he doesn't want me to be insolvent, he must
help me a little further.

"Is it true you are going to be married? The
thought of it sends a pang through me, of such
anguish as I dare not speak of. Oh dear! oh
dear! what a flood of bygones are rushing upon
me, after all my pledges, all my promises! One
of these girls reminded me of your smile; how
like, but how different, Sophy. Do say there's
no truth in the story of the marriage, and
believe me—what your heart will tell you I have
never ceased to be—your devoted,

"HARRY CALVERT."

"I think that ought to do," said he, as he
read over the letter; "and there's no peril in it,
since her marriage is fixed for the end of the
month. It is, after all, a cheap luxury to bid for
the lot that will certainly be knocked down to
another. She's a nice girl, too, is Sophy, but,
like all of us, with a temper of her own. I'd
like to see her married to Loyd, they'd make
each other perfectly miserable."

With this charitable reflection to turn over
in various ways, tracing all the consequences he
could imagine might spring from it, he
sauntered out for a walk beside the lake.

"This box has just come by the mail from
Chiasso," said his host, pointing to a small
parcel, corded and sealed. "It is the box the
signora yonder has been searching for, these three
weeks; it was broken when the diligence upset,
and they tied it together as well as they could."

The writing-desk was indeed that which Miss
Grainger had lost on her Rhine journey, and
was now about to reach her in a lamentable
condition—one hinge torn off, the lock strained,
and the bottom split from one end to the other.

"I'll take charge of it. I shall go over to
see her in a day or two, perhaps to-morrow;"
and with this Calvert carried away the box to
his own room.

As he was laying the desk on his table, the
bottom gave way, and the contents fell about
the room. They were a mass of papers and
letters, and some parchments; and he
proceeded to gather them up as best he might,
cursing the misadventure, and very angry with
himself for being involved in it. The letters
were in little bundles, neatly tied, and docketed
with the writers' names. These he replaced in the
box, having inverted it, and placing all, as nearly
as he could, in due order, till he came to a
thick papered document tied with red tape at
the corner, and entitled Draft of Jacob Walter's
Will, with Remarks of Counsel. "This we must
look at," said Calvert. " What one can see at
Doctors' Commons for a shilling is no breach
of confidence, even if seen for nothing;" and
with this he opened the paper.

It was very brief, and set forth how the testator
had never made, nor would make, any other
will, that he was sound of mind, and hoped to
die so. As to his fortune, it was something
under thirty thousand pounds in Bank Stock,
and he desired it should be divided equally
between his daughters, the survivor of them to have
the whole, or, in the event of each life lapsing
before marriage, that the money should be divided
amongst a number of charities that he specified.

"I particularly desire and beg," wrote he,
"that my girls be brought up by Adelaide
Grainger, my late wife's half-sister, who long has
known the hardships of poverty, and the cares of a
narrow subsistence, that they may learn in early
life the necessity of thrift and not habituate
themselves to luxuries, which a reverse of
fortune might take away from them. I wish,
besides, that it should be generally believed their
fortune was one thousand pounds each, so that
they should not become a prey to fortune-hunters,
nor the victims of adventurers, insomuch
that my last request to each of my dear
girls would be not to marry the man who would
make inquiry into the amount of their means
till twelve calendar months after such inquiry,
that time being full short enough to study the
character of one thus palpably worldly-minded
and selfish."

A few cautions as to the snares and pitfals of
the world followed, and the document finished
with the testator's name, and that of three
witnesses in pencil, the words "if they consent,"
being added in ink, after them.

"Twice fifteen make thirty—thirty thousand
pounds—a very neat sum for a great many
things, and yielding, even in its dormant state,
about fifteen hundred a year. What can one do
for that? Live, certainly—live pleasantly, jovially,
if a man were a bachelor. At Paris, for
instance, with one's pleasant little entresol in
the Rue Neuve, or the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré,
and his club, and his saddle-horses, with
even ordinary luck at billiards, he could make
the two ends meet very satisfactorily. Then,
Baden always pays its way, and the sea-side
places also do, for the World is an excellent
World to the fellow who travels with his courier,
and only begs to be plucked a little by the fingers
that wear large diamonds.

"But all these enchantments vanish when it
becomes a question of a wife. A wife means
regular habits and respectability. The two most
costly things I know of. Your scampish single-handed
valet, who is out all day on his own affairs,
and only turns up at all at some noted time in
your habits, is not one-tenth as dear as that old
creature with the powdered head and the poultice
of cravat round his neck, who only bows
when the dinner is served, and grows apoplectic
if he draws a cork.

"It's the same in everything! Your house