"I'm troubled about that boy who came here to-night," continued Mr. White; "the more so when I hear what a good, honest boy he is; there are too few of his kind in the world, and we ought to try what we could do for him. He will have gone home to-night disappointed and anxious, not knowing why I sent for him, and his white face will trouble me like a nightmare unless I can find some means of reassuring him. Could not you delicately convey a little present from me, either for him or for his family, something just to lighten their present difficulties ?"

"I thank you, sir, I do from my heart," replied Mr. Absalom, gratefully, "but Stephen would never take it from me; he'd never accept a penny from me but what he had earned. Some one put the wicked thought in his heart once that he followed me for the sake of what I might leave him, and I almost lost him by it."

"But this is quite a different case. This time of the year too, with the Christmas and New Year coming on, when every one who can afford it tries to make their house comfortable, and to provide some little treat for their family. A present given at this season might be accepted without injury to an honest pride, eh?"

"Nay, nay; I know the boy well; he would not touch it," murmured the old clerk, abruptly.

"Well, could not you take charge of it for him? It's only a ten-pound note," said Mr. White, un

I

rolling the paper he held in his hand. "Take charge of it for him, and make use of it to his advantage whether he will or no. It would at least enable his family to spare him to you for a time."

Mr. Absalom did not reply at once; his mind seemed to be centred on some new and absorbing thought which had arisen in his mind. Again and again he passed his fingers up through his thin white hair, and sighed abstractedly. At length he stood up abruptly, and said, with a strange eager

ness:

"I'll take it from you, sir; I'll take it with an old man's hearty thanks. It will put me out of suspense, out of pain. It's a large sum, but it might bring a great blessing with it too. I have it in my mind what we might do with it."

"That's right, old friend; and if you want more to carry out your scheme, whatever it is, you know where to apply for it. I have had bitterness of heart this morning in witnessing the fruits of idleness; let me rejoice this evening to know that I have had the pleasure of being able to reward such patient industry."

"I thank you, sir, I thank you. I'd say more if I could." The old clerk's eyes were full of honest tears as he took the money from his master's hands.

"I don't want to hear any more thanks. I would rather you did not mention the subject to me again, unless, indeed, your scheme, whatever it is, succeeds, and then you must come back and tell me.

I would rather not see you again till you've grown young and handsome and strong. Here's your hat, old friend"-Mr. Absalom was looking vacantly about the room in search of it-" and here's your handkerchief; good-night to you. I'm glad I saw the boy-as nice a lad as ever I met. Take care of yourself; the hall is dark outside, I see; let me go down the stairs with you. Ah! raining still; but the clouds are breaking. Good-night again! A merry Christmas and a happy New Year!"

"The clouds are breaking! a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!" and his master's words rang in the turmoil of the old clerk's brain long, long after they were spoken; they followed him down the dark streets, through the fog and the driving rain, to the door of his house. "The clouds are breaking! a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!" and as the old clerk laid his head on his pillow, the joy-bells of hope still rang their peal of promise in his ears.

CHAPTER XI.

THE STRUGGLE.

"WHAT'S that?" asked Mrs. Adams, suddenly starting, and pushing back her chair from the kitchen table, as the sound of wheels stopping outside in the narrow street caught her ear; "they can't surely be a sending to carry any of us off to prison at this hour of the night, Joseph ?"

"Tush, wife; people aren't put into prison nowa-days without being allowed to say a word for themselves. We'll have to hear more of the law before that's done, I'm thinking."

"I hear strange voices outside, for all that, I do ; they are coming to take you, Joe. I'm certain of it. Listen! What's that?" and Mrs. Adams nearly shrieked with terror, as a loud, imperative knock was struck on the outer door.

"Let them in, woman," cried Mr. Adams, authoritatively, as his wife shrank from replying to the summons; "let them in, I say, whoever they be, and don't make a fool o' yourself."

"Open the door, can't you?" cried an impatient voice from without; "how long will you keep us standing outside in the rain?”

"Coming, if you'll give a body time to walk

across the kitchen," replied Mrs. Adams, in a shrill, defiant tone, though her face had suddenly blanched, and her knees quaked, as though she had seen a ghost.

It was a ghost, they all saw as the door opened, the ghost of Stephen, standing on the threshold with an ashen face, and dull, lack-lustre eyes, while a strange man, wrapped in a porter's many-caped coat, stood beside him.

"Eh, Toddy, it's you lad, is it, after all? and you going to frighten the life out of your poor mother's heart. Blessings on us! what have you been a doin', child, to make your face of that colour?"

"The boy's ill, that's what he is; you'd better look sharp after him, for he's out of my hands now ;" and Mr. White's hall porter turned on his heel; "take my advice and get to your bed, lad," he added, kindly; "there's nothing like the heat of the bed to take the tremble out of the heart and bones."

"Thank you,” replied Stephen, faintly, “I think I will go up and rest a bit."

"What ails you, 'lad?" asked Stephen's father, kindly, as the door closed behind the porter, and Stephen stood in the same stupefied position by the threshold.

"My head is giddy, and I feel in a kind of dream like," replied Stephen, stretching forth his hand for some well-known landmark to support him, and staggering forward.