young creature scarcely dared to confess to her
self, that away from home and all of us, she had
found some one whom she could love better
than us all. And there stood Rebecca, reading it
out before everybody, hardly knowing what the
sense was; and just folding it up like a common
letter when she had finished it.

"But listen to this, father," she said, tossing
Katie's letter aside like a useless thing, and
while the father was dwelling upon his child's
words, Rebecca read the dreadful notice in a
clear and distinct voice, as if it were a sermon.
Mr. Ambery did not hearken at first; but, as
she went on, he fixed his eyes upon her, and a
look of vexation and anxiety settled on his face.

"My love," he said, almost peevishly, " I
never touched that money in my life."

"Then what does all this mean?" asked Rebecca.

"I don't know what it means," he answered,
in a helpless manner. "I do just remember
Mary Corbett. Yes, she married Thompson,
who went to college with me, but took to some
business afterwards. I was trustee to her
marriage-settlement, and John Ward was the other.
If either of the trustees had the money in his
hands, it was Ward, but he died years ago. They
are all dead now."

"But, father," said Rebecca, who had a good
head for business matters, "the money would
be invested in some way, or paid into a bank,
and you would get some receipt or acknowledgment
for it. Just try to recollect."

"Ah!" he cried, after a few minutes' thought,
"I remember Ward bringing me a document,
which he said was a deed of release. But it is
thirty years ago, and I must have put it into
some place of safety. We must find it, and
send it to Mr. Corbett."

The finding was easier to speak of than to do.
Mr. Ambery had been writing sermons ever
since he was twenty; and as if he had been one
of those Turks I heard of at a missionary meeting
who think it a sin to destroy a bit of paper,
and I thought of the master the moment they
were mentioned; he had kept every sermon and
writing of his own, as though they were sacred,
precious things. Also, he had kept every letter
he had received. Ah! there were all the poor,
dear, dead mistress's letters, for all the weary
years they were waiting, tied up in packets for
each twelve months; and Rebecca's white face,
with the lines growing harder and plainer upon
it, bent over them anxiously, as she unfolded
one after another, to see if peradventure the
costly document was among them. We were
the more certain that the master had never
made away with it, from the very numbers of
the papers that were stored away in one place
or another; even to a little closet under the
eaves, so full that when the door was opened,
the bundles of yellow sermons rolled out along
the passage floor. But Rebecca sought
perseveringly; and when she had searched in vain
through every packet, she began again, though
with a feeling of despair, and went through her
wearisome task a second time, so sure were we
all that Mr. Ambery had put the deed in safety
somewhere.

I did not tell Rebecca, but some ugly reports
were being whispered about the town, and I
wondered how the matter got abroad. Even the
members of the church began to ask where the
old minister's money came from, that thousand
pounds lent out on two chapels, as many people
knew. Had he inherited any property? Or had
he had a legacy left him? Or had Mrs. Ambery
brought him any fortune? Mr. Corbett came
to service, morning and evening, with his
smooth bland face, with its pleasant smile, like
Satan turned into an angel of light; and his
voice and manner overcame everybody, until
even I shook hands with him in the chapel-yard,
just because he held out his soft hand, with a
pleasant look that robbed me of my senses, and
he nodded to Joshua Lamb as if he had been
his familiar friend. Just when the reports were
at the worst, he threw himself into old Mr.
Ambery's way as he came out of the porch, and
taking off his hat with a look of the deepest
reverence and affection, he grasped the hand of
the poor, innocent victim, till all the congregation
were greatly affected, and felt inclined to
suspect their old pastor tenfold.

These rumours and scandals could not go on
without it being necessary to bring them before
the church. Mr. Craig warded off the blow for
a long time; but the cry, which had not reached
Rebecca and her father, was growing louder
and louder, and it must be silenced or answered.
I know that Mr. Craig held several private and
irregular conferences with the leading members
before he would call a church meeting to
investigate the scandal about their aged pastor; but
it had to come to that at last. He was closeted
up with Mr. Ambery all one long morning, while
Rebecca was finishing her second unsuccessful
search; and when he came out of the study, he
rushed through the lobby without heeding her
as she stood within the sitting-room, and pulling
the house-door after him with a great bang, he
strode up the street, and passed my shop window,
with a face ghastly pale.

We were sitting all together that night after
evening prayer, and Mr. Ambery was smoking
his pipe as peacefully as if there was neither
sorrow nor care in the world, when Rebecca
laid aside her mending— she always seemed to
be mending rather than making— and she spoke
in a hard, decisive manner, as though she had
quite made up her mind how the present
misfortune should be managed.

"Father," she said, " the deed of release is
nowhere in the house. The claim is unjust and
wicked, but Mr. Corbett has too much sense to
make it if it is illegal, and it will swallow up the
thousand pounds, which are the savings of your
lifetime. I see only one way to escape out of
our difficulty."

"My love," said her father, laying down his
pipe, and folding his hands one over the other,
as he looked into her anxious face, so like Mrs.
Ambery's, "your poor mother and I denied
ourselves all the joys and pleasures of youth to