said Mrs. Brookes. "He will not hear of it
first from any newspaper."

"Indeed," said Harriet. "I am glad to
know that. I am much relieved. Mr. Dallas
is so intimate with Mr. Routh, my husband,
and we are so much attached to him, that anything
which is of importance to him concerns us.
I am on my way to Dover, and I thought I
would turn out of it a little to inquire into this
matter."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Mrs. Brookes,
still unsoftened. "May I ask if you have left
your house in London?"

"We have for the present," replied Harriet;
"indeed, I don't think we shall return there."

Mrs. Brookes looked confused and distressed.

"Excuse me," she said, after an awkward
pause, "if I appear at all impertinent. I am
George Dallas's old nurse, and more his
mother's friend than her servant, and I can't
be particular about other people when they are
concerned. George Dallas is not as welcome
here as he ought to be in his mother's house;
you say you know that. If you really are Mrs.
Routh, you ought to know more about him
than that—more, in fact, than I do."

"Certainly," said Harriet, with unchanged
sweetness of tone, and just the least gleam of
colour in her cheek, showing that she was
approaching her object. "I do know a great
deal more about George Dallas than you do, if,
as I conclude from your words, nothing has
been heard of him since his last visit to his
mother."

She paused very slightly, but Mrs. Brookes
did not utter a word.

"You are quite right to be cautious, Mrs.
Brookes; in such a delicate family matter as
this, caution is most essential. Poor George
has been so foolish, that he has laid himself open
to being harmed either by enemies or injudicious
friends; but I assure you, Mrs. Brookes, I am
neither. I really am Mrs. Routh, and I am quite
in George's confidence, and am here solely with
the purpose of saving him any trouble or anxiety
I can."

"Where is he?" asked the old woman,
suddenly, as if the question were forced upon her.

"He is at Amsterdam, in Holland," replied
Harriet, in a frank tone, and changing her seat
for one beside Mrs. Brookes, as she spoke;
"here are several letters from him. See," and
she drew half a dozen sheets of foreign paper,
closely written over, from her pocket, and put
them into the old woman's hands. She beheld
the letters with mingled pleasure and avoidance:
they could not answer the question which
tormented her, but they relieved her misgivings
about her visitor. She felt assured now that
she really was speaking to Mrs. Routh, and that
the object of her visit was one of kindness to
George. The letters were in his well-known
hand; the thin paper and the postmarks satisfied
her that they came from abroad. He was still
out of the country, then; so far there was safety,
but she must be cautious still concerning him.
What if she could make Harriet the unconscious
bearer of a further warning to him—a warning
carefully contrived so that none but he should
know its meaning, and he should understand it
thoroughly? She would try. She had thought
all this while she turned the letters over in
her hands; then she returned them to Harriet,
and said:

"Thank you, ma'am. I see these are from
Master George, and it's plain he has great
confidence in you. He never answered a letter I
sent him: it went to your house."

"All communications for him are addressed
to Mr. Routh," said Harriet, "and forwarded
at once."

"Well, ma'am, he never told me where he
had gone to, or wrote a letter but one to his
mother; and when that came, she was too ill to
read it, or know anything about it."

"Indeed," said Harriet, in a tone of
commiseration; "she must have been taken ill just
after he saw her, then?"

"She was," returned Mrs. Brookes, emphatically,
"and you, ma'am, know, no doubt, why
she saw him, and can understand that his
conduct caused her illness."

"Not exactly that," said Harriet. " He told
me all that had passed, and described his mother
as full of forgiveness and hope, and he even said
how well and handsome he thought her looking.
George amuses us very much by
constantly talking of his mother's beauty; he will
be all the more distressed when he hears of her
illness, now, and I really think, Mrs. Brookes,
it cannot be quite fair to impute it to his
conduct."

"It was just that, and nothing else," said
the old woman; and her voice shook as she
spoke, though she strove to control it. "It
was, indeed, ma'am, and you must tell him the
truth, without softening it, or making it any
better. Tell him that she nearly died of the
knowledge of his conduct, and that her mind is
weakened, and her memory gone."

"Her memory gone!" exclaimed Harriet.
"You don't mean to say it is so bad as that?"

"I do, indeed," said Mrs. Brookes. "And will
you tell him exactly what I tell you. Tell him that
his mother has forgotten all that led to her
illness, all the fear and suspense she underwent.
Of course she was frightened at what she had
to do, and in suspense until it was done; but I
am sure she has not forgotten him, and if he were
to see her, or even be mentioned to her
suddenly, it might have the worst effect. Be sure
to tell him this, and that the only thing he can
do to atone for the past in any way is to keep
out of his mother's sight. He knows some of
this already, for I wrote to him, and he knows
from Mr. Carruthers that his mother is gone
away."

"From Mr. Carruthers?" said Harriet, in a
tone of admirably simulated surprise; "does he
ever communicate with George?"

"My master is a very just man," replied
Mrs. Brookes, in a stately tone, "and he would
not allow his wife's son to be kept in ignorance
of his mother's danger. I am sure he will