innocence and perfect harmlessness, than the
foreigner who was described in the housekeeper's
letter as an audacious vagabond, and
who was dreaded by Mr. Munder as something
worse than a thief!

"Madam, and good sir," said the old man,
advancing a little nearer at Mrs. Frankland's
invitation, "I ask your pardon for intruding
myself. My name is Joseph Buschmann. I
live in the town of Truro, where I work in
cabinets and tea-caddies, and other shining
woods. I am also, if you please, the same
little foreign man who was scolded by the big
major-domo when I came to see the house.
All that I ask of your kindness is, that you
will let me say for my errand here and for
myself, and for another person who is very
near to my love,—one little word. I will be
but few minutes, madam and good sir, and
then I will go my ways again with my best
wishes and my best thanks."

"Pray consider, Mr. Buschmann, that our
time is your time," said Leonard. "We have
no engagement whatever which need oblige
you to shorten your visit. I must tell you,
beforehand, in order to prevent any
embarrassment on either side, that I have the
misfortune to be blind. I can promise you,
however, my best attention as far as listening
goes. Rosamond, is Mr. Buschmann
seated?"

Mr. Buschmann was still standing near the
door, and was expressing sympathy by bowing
to Mr. Frankland again, and crumpling
his felt hat once more over his heart.

"Pray come nearer, and sit down" said
Rosamond. " And don't imagine for one
moment that any opinion of the steward's has
the least influence on us, or that we feel it
at all necessary for you to apologise for what
took place the last time you came to this
house. We have an interest—a very great
interest," she added, with her usual hearty
frankness, "in hearing anything that you
have to tell us. You are the person of all
others whom we are, just at this time——"
She stopped, feeling her foot touched by
her husband's, and rightly interpreting the
action as a warning not to speak too
unrestrainedly to the visitor before he had
explained his object in coming to the house.

Looking very much pleased, and a little
surprised also, when he heard Rosamond's
last words, Uncle Joseph drew a chair near
to the table by which Mr. and Mrs. Frankland
were sitting, crumpled his felt hat
up smaller than ever and put it in one of his
side pockets, drew from the other a little
packet of letters, placed them on his knees
as he sat down, patted them gently with
both hands, and entered on his explanation
in these terms:—

"Madam and good sir," he began, " before
I can say comfortably my little word, I must,
with your leave, travel backwards to the
last time when I came to this house in
company with my niece."
"Your niece! " exclaimed Rosamond and
Leonard, both speaking together.

"My niece, Sarah," said Uncle Joseph,
"the only child of my sister, Agatha. It is
for the love of Sarah, if you please, that I
am here now. She is the one last morsel of
my flesh and blood that is left to me in the
world. The rest, they are all gone! My
wife, my little Joseph, my brother Max, my
sister Agatha, and the husband she married,
the good and noble Englishman, Leeson—
they are all, all gone!"

"Leeson," said Rosamond, pressing her
husband's hand significantly under the table.
"Your niece's name is Sarah Leeson?"

Uncle Joseph sighed and shook his head.
"One day," he said, "of all the days in the
year the evilmost for Sarah, she changed
that name. Of the man she married—who
is dead, now, Madam—it is little or nothing
that I know but this:—His name was Jazeph,
and he used her ill, for which I think him
the First Scoundrel! Yes," exclaimed Uncle
Joseph, with the nearest approach to anger
and bitterness which his nature was capable
of making, and with an idea that he was
using one of the strongest superlatives in the
language. "Yes! if he was to come to life
again at this very moment of time, I would
say it of him to his face:—Englishman
Jazeph, you are the First Scoundrel!"

Rosamond pressed her husband's hand for
the second time. If their own convictions
had not already identified Mrs. Jazeph with
Sarah Leeson, the old man's last words must
have amply sufficed to assure them, that
both names had been borne by the same
person.

"Well, then, I shall now travel backwards
to the time when I was here with Sarah, my
niece," resumed Uncle Joseph. " I must, if
you please, speak the truth in this business,
or, now that I am already backwards where
I want to be, I shall stick fast in my place,
and get on no more for the rest of my life.
Sir and good madam, will you have the
great kindness to forgive me and Sarah,
my niece, if I confess that it was not to see
the house that we came here, and rang at
the bell, and gave deal of trouble, and
wasted much breath of the big major-domo's
with the scolding that we got. It was
only to do one curious little thing, that we
came together to this place—or, no, it was
all about a secret of Sarah's, which is still
as black and dark to me as the middle of the
blackest and darkest night that ever was in
the world—and, as I nothing knew about it,
except that there was no harm in it to
anybody or anything, and that Sarah was
determined to go, and that I could not let her go
by herself: as also for the good reason that
she told me, she had the best right of anybody
to take the letter and to hide it again, seeing
that she was afraid of its being found if
longer in that room she left it, which was
the room where she had hidden it before—