fled—vanished with the service I had rendered
him. I felt I could forgive him, freely,
unreservedly, as I hoped to be forgiven.

"I knelt down, and with my eyes fixed on his
pale face, prayed, really prayed, for the first time
for all those years. And then came over me
such a flood of thankfulness as I had never
known, never conceived before. And all through
that long night of watching the spirit of my
master was with me, and his words were ever
sounding in my ears, ' There is a God-like joy
in forgiving.'

"Sir, from that time I was an altered man.
A great load seemed to have been suddenly
lifted off me, and I was once more free. My
enemy had reconciled me with my kind, and my
hand was no longer against every man, and
every man's hand against me.

"When the doctor came the next morning,
he not only found his patient alive, but better
than he had imagined possible. Indeed, he has
since confessed that from all he had heard of my
strange habits, he had thought the poor man's
chance of life but a small one, and he could
scarcely conceal his astonishment at the tender
care with which I nursed and waited on him.
That care had to be long continued, and I was
at last compelled to seek for aid during the daytime,
to enable me to attend to the business on
which my livelihood and his depended. The
doctor told me of a young woman, a servant out
of place, who had quite a natural turn for nursing,
and who, he was sure, would willingly give
her services for some hours daily, if requested.
I thankfully accepted his offer to speak to her.
She came, and I leave you to imagine what I
felt when I found my Fanny in that kind
assistant—Fanny, who had never forgotten,
never ceased to seek me since the real particulars
of my story had been known, who had shed
no end of tears on my account—Fanny, who
had nursed her lady in her last illness at Paris,
and had inherited a nice little sum at her death,
enough to make it not imprudent now that she
should marry—Fanny, who had found me out
some time before, in spite of my change of name,
and had adopted this method of once more meeting
me—Fanny, who told me that she loved me
better now for what I had done for the helpless
man up-stairs, than she had ever done before,
and would help me to tend and nurse him, not at
this time only, but through life, if need be!

"And she did help me, bearing, as we long
had to bear, with the peevish fretfulness, the
fearful despondency of his peculiar disease,
cherishing and serving him all the more, the
more he needed help and pity. I will not dwell
on his remorse, when, after a weary interval of
suffering, his mind at last resumed enough of
tone to enable him to comprehend something of
the circumstances that surrounded him. Enough
to say, that during the eight happy years of our
married life he has eaten of our bread, drunk of
our cup, and been to us as a brother, nor will
he quit us whilst we live. His illness left him
far weaker in mind than in body. Drink had
been his ruin. He had had no less than three
attacks of delirium tremens; the last but a short
time before I found him. And even now,
though harmless and affectionate—and who can
say how grateful—he is not to be trusted by
himself, for he cannot resist temptation, and the
least drop of drink upsets and drives him wild.
He helps me in the shop, and watches over our
children with a great devotion. He is out at
this moment with our eldest girl—just seven—
and will have kept her from the rain at the
expense of a wetting himself. In the night school
I have organised under Mr. Bertram's
supervision, and which is one of my greatest pleasures,
he is of infinite service. And there is not one
of the boys there who does not know my story.
For I am a living proof myself of the strength
of early impressions, and I should strive to make
them of use to others too. They may disappear
for a time and be forgotten; but, like invisible
ink, they come out again when exposed to the
heat of temptation or suffering, and remain
indelible. And many a lad has been lost after
once falling, for want of a strong kindly hand
to help him up again, a cheery voice like my
dear master's to say 'Fight on! Fight on!
Live down the evil you have done, and make
yourself a new and upright name!'—Sir, my
story is told."

"Well," said my friend, as we walked slowly
homewards, on the loveliest of summer evenings,
" was I wrong in telling you that that is a man
worth knowing?"

                NEW WORK BY MR. DICKENS,
In Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of
                   "Pickwick," "Copperfleld," &c.
             Now publishing, PART X., price 1s., of
                       OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.
                      BY CHARLES DICKENS.
                IN TWENTY MONTHLY PARTS.
             With Illustrations by MARCUS STONE.
       London: CHAPMAN and HALL, 193, Piccadilly.

                      Stitched in a cover, price Fourpence, the
                            NEW CHRISTMAS NUMBER,
                            MRS. LIRRIPER'S LEGACY.
I. MRS. LIRRIPER RELATES
          HOW SHE WENT ON, AND WENT OVER.
II. A PAST LODGER RELATES
          A WILD LEGEND OF A DOCTOR.
III. ANOTHER PAST LODGER RELATES
          HIS EXPERIENCE AS A POOR RELATION.
IV. ANOTHER PAST LODGER RELATES
          WHAT LOT HE DREW AT GLUMPER HOUSE.
V. ANOTHER PAST LODGER RELATES
          HIS OWN GHOST STORY.
VI. ANOTHER PAST LODGER RELATES
          CERTAIN PASSAGES TO HER HUSBAND.
VII. MRS. LIRRIPER RELATES
          HOW JEMMY TOPPED UP.