eeling, a kind of deadness of heart and mind, began to steal over him with the progress of the days. He went through the routine of his business-life steadily enough, working

nds for any direct evidence of the marriage of Marian Nowell; when a letter was handed to him one evening at the po

tained only a half-sheet of paper, with these words written upon i

requested to call at No. 5, Queen Anne's Co

formation about the object of his search. It was six o'clock when he received the communication. He went from the post-office to his lodgings

nt himself before strangers-who, no doubt, only wanted to make a barter of any knowledge they possessed as to Marian's whereabouts-in a state of mental

rrow alley with dingy-looking shops on one side and a high dead wall on the other. The gas was glimmering faintly in the window of No. 5, and a good deal of old silver, tarnished and blackened, hu

tablishment there appeared the name of Ja

his inscription. It must needs be some

nce to those within. A tall lanky young man, with a sallow face and sleek black hair, emerged quickly

riter of a letter addressed to t

es behind glass doors, carved ebony cabinets looming out of the dusk, and here and there an old picture in a tarnished frame. On the counter there was a g

ow young man and a feeble old voice raised querulously-and then, after a delay which seemed

d bric-a-brac of all kinds than the shop itself. Sultry as the July evening was, there was a fire burning in the pinched rusty grate, and o

deep set in a pale thin face. His nose was a sharp aquiline, and gave something of a bird-like aspect to a countena

hop, as if he would fain have remained a witness to the interview about to take place be

Abrahams brings that little lot again to-night, tell hi

r so little; but the penetrating black eyes of

I've kept him too long. People talk of old servants; but half the robberies in the world are committed by old servants. Be seated, if

upon the only disengaged chair in the room, "and with some hope that you may be

u no informati

tter pang of disappointment; "and

ason to suppose this Marian No

quite p

l me her fat

Her mother was a M

ney, and that I deserved nothing better than his treatment of me. I may have been better off at this time than I had cared to let him know, for I had soon found out what a reckless scoundrel I had to deal with; but if he had behaved decently, he would have found me generous and indulgent enough. As it was, I told him to go about his business, and never to expect another sixpence from me as long as he lived. How he managed to exist after this, I hardly know. He was very much mixed up with a disreputable lot of turf-men, and I believe he made money by betting. His mother robbed me for him, I found out afterwards, and contrived to send him a good deal of money at odd times. My business as a dealer in second-hand silver was better then than it is now, and I had had so much money passing through my hands that it was pretty easy for my wife to cheat me. Poor soul! she has been dead and gone these fifteen years, and I have freely forgiven her. She loved that young man to distraction. If he had wanted a step to reach the object of his wishes, she would have laid herself down in the dust and let him walk over her body. I suppose it is in the nature of mothers to love their sons like that. Well, sir, I never saw my gent

more of your son afte

ened her life. She never complained, poor soul! never mentioned Percy's name until the last, when she begged me to be kind to him if he should ever come to throw himself upon my kindness. I gave her my pro

on to suppose your

soft-hearted at such times. My mind changed to him a good deal after his mother's death. I used to think of him as he was in his boyhood, when Marian and I had such great hopes of him, and would sit and talk of him for hours together by this fireside. An old man left quite alone as I was h

ny measures for finding

re looking for. I held off till this morning, thinking it wasn't worth my while to make any inquiries about the matter; but I couldn't get it out of my head somehow; and it ended by my answering your advertisement. I am an old man, you see,

well worthy of your love. Yes, though she has done me a cruel

rong that she

from Australia. The old man listened with every appearance of interest. He approved of Gilbert's notion of advertising for

miled at

y is to me now," he said, "or now lightly I

g worth telling. He went back to Wigmore Street heavy-hearted, depressed by the reaction that followed the vain hope which the silversmith's le