stolen, had married a sister of Mr. Latchup;
and, as ill luck would have it, Lord Normanbury
being absent, the bride and bridegroom thought
proper to take her brother in their way home
after their wedding trip, and were, of course,
luxuriously entertained in the steward's private
apartments. The instant I beheld Mr. Lardner's
face, I knew my fate. His look of horrified
surprise was more than enough for me.

"How shall I describe the commotion that
ensued? Every servant flew to examine his or
her possessions; every drawer was turned
inside out. Luckily for me, nothing was missed.
The very scullery-maid couldn't say but what her
things was right enough—and what a mussy,
sure; when they might have been all
pickpocketed and murdered in their beds, and never
known nothing about it.

"That afternoon I was summoned to Mr.
Latchup's private apartments, who, looming
vast and tremendous, thus addressed me:

"' Well, this here's a pretty go, this is. Now
look here, and listen to me, young shaver. I
don't deny but what you've behaved respectable
on the whole whilst here, setting aside your
vulgar ways, which you can't help, for you're
born so; the lower orders air. But the ladies
and gentlemen, d'ye see? as frequents these
apartments ain't accustomed to the society of
thieves, nor yet of the swell mob, d'ye see? and
of course they couldn't think of putting up with
it. And stealing a beggarly piece of soup meat!
Yah!—so low. Consequently, I regret to
communicate that you must go. Immediate. But
you'll be treated handsome—that's my principle
with the lower classes. Your month's wages
and board wages. But don't you think for to
come upon me for a reckmendation, because I
can't give none. The responsibility would be
too tremenjous.'

"I had worked hard—struggled hard—borne
much in that house, all in the hope of redeeming
my character, and keeping my promise to
my dear master. I sneaked out of it like a
convicted thief (as I was), with swollen eyes, a
bursting heart, and a character blasted. Yet I
was to forgive Philip!

"I never thought of a dishonest life now—
that time was past. I would go to my master,
and lay my sorrow before him.

"Alas! sorrow had been there before me.
His little child had died some months previously
of scarlet fever, and he himself was dying now
of rapid decline, the consequence of a cold
caught one bitter night in attending a sick
parishioner. His sweet wife came down, and
told me these tidings with a pale sad face, but
without a tear. She had wept so much, she
said, over that little grave, she seemed to have
no tears left. The doctor had ordered him to
see no one for long together, but when he heard
I was there, nothing would satisfy him but that
I must come in at once. Ah! how changed—
how wan—how wasted was the dear face. But
it had its old cheery smile yet, its bright kindly
expression. Nothing would change those, I
thought, but death.

"And I had not been long with him before he
had comforted me so, that for the time, at least,
I almost forgot my grief.

"' Clem,' said he, when he had listened to my
tale with breathless interest, ' it is hard, it is
hard. But it is all right, nevertheless, as you'll
know some day. You have fought a good fight,
and been beaten down this time. Up again, my
boy, and fight bravely on. Up again; you'll
win at last.'

"' I haven't the heart, sir. I can't fight no
more.'

"' You can.'

"'No I can't, sir. It's what they said in
that—that place. My trouble'll stick to me like
pitch—always hunt me down. If I get clear of
it for a bit, it'll find me out again wherever I
am. And I shall end in that place at last.'

"He almost sprang up on his sofa. 'No,
no! a hundred times no!' he cried, his eyes
dilating with eager excitement. ' You'll live it
down, my boy, you'll live it down! Believe
me. I say you will.'

"He sank back exhausted. But presently,
raising himself again slightly, he whispered:
' And I see good in it, even now!'

"' Good, sir?'

"' Yes; great good—for you can nurse me.
I want you sadly, and my wife wants you. We
have often wished you were here of late—we
wished it when my—my little son was ill.
Don't cry, Clem, my boy. Rather rejoice that
you are sent here just in time to be of use
to us.'

"This was how he comforted me, sir, and made
me forget my grief.

"I nursed him—ah! I am thankful to think,
as tenderly as he had nursed my parents—and
made it easier for that sweet lady too. She
often said I seemed to have been sent to be a
help to her, and she did not know how she
should have got on without me.

"By degrees I discovered how poor they were
—how many things she longed to get for him,
that were quite beyond their means. When I
learnt that, I took a five-pound bank-note from
my little hoard (I was rich, for I had spent but
little at Lord Normanbury's, and had received
a month's wages and board wages in advance on
leaving), and enclosed it to her, with 'From a
true friend,' in a feigned hand in the cover. I
was present when she opened it. ' See!' said
she, ' what Providence sends us! How can I
ever be thankful enough?—For I think,' the
poor thing added, pausing suddenly, as though
a doubt crossed her mind,"I think I'm
justified in using it! It says 'From a true
friend,'—and he has many such, who would be
glad their money should benefit him. Yes—I'll
use it. Clem! run out and buy a packet of
isinglass for me, and a chicken from the
poulterer's, will you, my boy?'

"Sir, you may suppose I enjoyed seeing him
eating that chicken—yes, and relishing it too!
It was worth all the cuffs and hard names I had
borne at Normanbury, to have earned that for
those two dear people.