that his prospects in life are as much improved
as his inclination and determination to do them
honour are genuine and strong."

"You are quite right, Mr. Felton," said the
honourable old gentleman, who had begun to
feel himself somehow beaten by fate, and was,
secretly, immensely relieved that his step-son
had made his appearance without having been
sent for, and in such unexceptionable company.
"It is necessary now that Mr. Dallas—that—
that George" (he got out the word with an
immense effort, and it meant everything)
"should be near his mother. I am glad to
know he has found a friend in you."

"And I am still more glad to believe," said
Mr. Felton, not precisely interrupting Mr.
Carruthers, but taking advantage of a slight
pause to speak—" I am glad to know that he
found me just when he was learning to do
without any one."

It is possible that a good deal of Mr.
Carruthers's trouble—and he had suffered severely
since he had left England—had had its origin in
a conviction, which had stolen upon him at first,
and latterly had threatened to overwhelm him,
that he had not been faultless in his conduct
towards his wife and his treatment of her son.
He had found out very shortly after they had
left Poynings—for in the deadening of her
faculties, forgetfulness of her fear of him had
come—how mistaken he had been in supposing
that he had suppressed her love for George, her
constant remembrance of him, or had supplied
by all he had given her for the boon he had
withheld. In her placid way, when she would
sit for hours talking softly to herself, his wife
had administered some very telling lessons to
Mr. Carruthers. It was with an uneasy
surprise that he came to feel how very dear she
was to him, how indispensable to his life, how
strangely the things which had held the first
place in his estimation, behind which he had
ranked her, and she had been content humbly
to follow, fell away into complete insignificance.
He actually forgot Poynings at times, and was
not worried by fears that the lawn was not
properly mown and smoothly rolled, or by
visions of fallen leaves lying about in the
sacred places. His "business papers" were
duly forwarded to him, but they did not interest
him much; his mind dwelt almost entirely on
his wife's state, and he was rapidly passing, as
might be expected from a man whose moral
perceptions had been suddenly awakened and
enlarged, from the recognition of his true share
of blame in the calamity, which had befallen
them, to an exaggeration of that share, which
rendered him almost oblivious of the provocation
he had received. Had George Dallas suddenly
appeared before his step-father at Poynings, he
might not have been well received; the influence
of old habits and associations, in the sense of
the promulgation of the old edict of banishment,
might have successfully overpowered the
new influences striving with pride and obstinacy
in the by no means bad heart of Mr. Carruthers.
But the occasion had been most auspicious.
Here, in a foreign place, where Mr. Carruthers
was positively oppressed with a sense of
strangeness, and where no one was present to know
anything about the concession he was making,
he had but trifling difficulties to overcome, and
the meeting between the three gentlemen had
been kindly, unreserved, and cordial.

The report of his wife's condition, which Mr.
Carruthers had made to her son and brother,
was not very reassuring, and was doubly
distressing to George, in consequence of the stress
which his step-father laid upon the good effect to
be anticipated by his restoration to her. Had
Mr. Carruthers been in a less charitable frame
of mind, he might have taken the silence and
sadness with which George received his
assurances on this point for sullenness; but he
did not, he was actually learning to make
allowancefor the temperaments and the feelings of
other people.

Mr. Felton and his nephew had arrived at
Hombourg on the preceding evening, and Mr.
Felton had communicated by letter with Mr.
Carruthers, who had named an early hour on
the following day for receiving his unknown
brother-in-law and his little-known step-son.
Their interview had lasted some time, when Mr.
Carruthers expressed his belief that good might
result to his mother from seeing George.

The young man turned his face from the
speaker, and made no answer.

"It will be necessary, of course, to have her
physician's advice and permission in the first
instance," said Mr. Felton, "before either
George or I can see her. I suppose she is
in good hands here?"

"In the best possible," replied Mr. Carruthers.
"Dr. Merle is famous in the treatment
of these strange mental maladies; indeed, it
was in order to consult him that I changed my
plan, and came here instead of going to the
south of France, as I had intended."

"So Miss Carruthers told me," said Mr.
Felton; which simple observation caused George
Dallas to start perceptibly, and to turn abnormally
red in the face.

"Indeed," said Mr. Carruthers. "I did not
know you had seen my niece."

"No?" said Mr. Felton. "I suppose she
left it to me to tell you of her prompt politeness
to an intruder. When I had seen your
housekeeper, and learned all she could tell me,
especially that my sister had not received my
letters, and knew nothing of my return to
England, I quickly made up my mind to join
you abroad. Miss Carruthers being in
correspondence with you, and therefore able to
give me all the information I wanted, was
clearly the person I ought to see, so I started
for the Sycamores, saw her—and a very beautiful
and charming girl she is—heard from her
all she had to tell me, and then went up to
town to make acquaintance with my nephew."

Mr. Carruthers felt and looked rather conscious
and uneasy while Mr. Felton was making
this explanation. Clare had a considerable
involuntary share in the self-reproach and regret
he was experiencing. His wife had been, to a
certain extent, sacrificed to her, and the remembrance