sullen indifference; but when I saw you-instead of standing aloof, as if proudly conscious of your own superiority and the immeasurable distance between us-coming forward, and putting your hand kindly upon my shoulder, while you addressed me, not in accents of wellmerited reproof, but in tender, pitiful language, such as showed that you could and did feel for me, notwithstanding my unworthiness; and when, after my mother had breathed her last, you tried to comfort me, and ended at length by promising to call on us as early as possible the next morning, I must have been less than human had I remained utterly unmoved; though it was not until I found myself alone-my aunt having retired to get a little sleep, and the house being still and silent as the grave-that I began to realize their power. Then, as I said before, I remembered your words, and whenever I carried the poison to my lips, they seemed like an invisible hand to hold me back. Instinctively I felt that you would be grieved and disappointed, when you heard what had occurred, and it was this thought which prevented me from actually committing the sin of which I had already in heart been guilty. So you see, sir, I was right in saying that you were the cause of all the happiness and prosperity I have since enjoyed."

"Indeed, I am far from agreeing with you on this subject," said Herbert, dissentingly. "Were you ever afterward assailed by the same form of temptation?" he asked, in a voice of exceeding gentleness. "Yes," replied Gordon, softly; once."

Herbert looked questioningly at him, and he exclaimed,

"It was while smarting under Mr. Gibson's bitter threats and taunts, when he informed me of the orders he had received from Mr. Seymour as to my leaving Mertonsville."

"You were then one of God's children?" remarked Herbert, somewhat anxiously.

True, sir; but Satan's devices are many," was the simple reply. "And on that occasion?" said Herbert, thoughtfully.

"Although the conflict was less fierce, it might nevertheless have terminated differently, had it not been for your opportune arrival at my mother's cottage."

"What a strangely exaggerated idea you have formed of me!" said Herbert, with a half-amused, half-vexed smile. "I wish I could convince you of your mistake."

James shook his head, as if to signify the hopelessness of attempting it, and another interval of silence ensued, ended by his saying, with eager abruptness,—

"You wished to speak of the future, sir; may I take the liberty of making a simple proposition?"

"Assuredly," answered Herbert, in a tone of encouragement; "why do you hesitate?"

"Because I am fearful lest you should deem me unreasonable or impertinent in what I am about to suggest."

"A very improbable supposition," said Herbert, quietly.

"You remember my Aunt Rachel, sir?"

66

'Perfectly," replied the young man, smiling at the question. "About six months ago she lost her husband, and, as she was unable to carry on the business he had been engaged in, I persuaded her to give it up, and undertake something that would be more likely to suit her. Just at this time, however, I very unexpectedly received a

certain sum of money, which had been left to me by a gentleman in America, as a reward for a trifling service I was fortunately able to render him; and this gave me the means of partially providing for her comfort. She is now in Lanchester, and it has occurred to us both that we would save the expense of house-rent, and otherwise derive much advantage, if you could consent to our residing and superintending the work in your cottage."

"It is I who would profit by such an arrangement, not you," said Herbert.

"You are quite wrong, sir,” cried Gordon, hastily, "for it is the greatest boon I can ask, to be permitted to have a home with you; and as to my aunt, she thinks the same, and is perfectly miserable unless in some way employed."

"If I could really hope to make you comfortable," said Herbert, reflectingly, "I should not pause a moment before accepting your offer, as I have no taste for housekeeping, and am lamentably deficient in the requisite knowledge of its details, and of money

matters connected with it."

"Then you agree, sir?" exclaimed Gordon, a glow of delight overspreading his face.

་་

"I believe I must," replied Herbert, smilingly; "the prospect of having some one on whom I can so thoroughly rely is too tempting to be refused!"

Although James Gordon was particularly desirous of keeping Herbert in ignorance of his exact circumstances, the same precaution need not be observed in regard to my readers, and I will therefore mention for their private information that the "trifling service" he spoke of was nothing less than having on two different occasions saved the life of an eccentric gentleman, who was in the habit of wandering alone and unarmed across the wild western prairies, where he was attacked the first time by a band of desperadoes, who, after plundering him of all he possessed, left him bound and bleeding at the foot of a tree-the only one which could be seen for miles around. There Gordon found him, lifted him upon his shoulder, carried him at considerable personal inconvenience to his own miserable hut, and nursed him night and day through a malignant fever, which constantly threatened to end his existence.

On his recovery, the gentleman, with his usual eccentricity, expressed no satisfaction at his life being thus miraculously preserved, and did not utter a word of thanks to his deliverer; but the latter scarcely wondered at this, so much had he become accustomed to behold mankind in its most repellent aspect; and when, a few months later, he again had an opportunity of serving him, he instantly availed himself of it. On this second occasion, his apparently ungrateful debtor was the victim of a fiery horse, who, sooner than obey his rider's commands, plunged and reared so violently that the unfortunate man was suddenly thrown from the saddle, and precipitated into the river, on the banks of which they had been travelling!

Once more James Gordon's efforts were crowned with success, and still the gentleman for whom he had risked his life seemed utterly indifferent and unthankful. Yet it was not so in reality; for when this whimsical personage died, it was found that he had left the whole of his fortune to James Gordon!

blot out the remembrance of his past privations by the splendid and sumptuous manner in which he now lived.

Perhaps he succeeded.

He certainly had no reason to murmur at the reception which he met with from those whose plaudits he was the most eager to gain, though whether the honour of being invited to their houses and appearing from time to time in their society was sufficient to compensate for the labour and expense he had so lavishly incurred before enjoying this coveted distinction is doubtful.

His next step was to choose a suitable wife; and this he managed quite characteristically. His pride having unfortunately grown in proportion to his popularity, he wrote a curt, heartless letter to a lady-the daughter of one of his former employers-to whom he had been for some time paying his addresses, informing her that circumstances had lately occurred which rendered it inexpedient for him to fulfil his engagement to herself! He felt bound, he said, to sacrifice his own personal feelings, for the sake of his family; and therefore he had resolved on forming an alliance with a highly connected young widow, who, in consideration of his great wealth, had agreed to overlook his early disadvantages, and bestow upon him, not only her own hand, but also the happiness of providing for her two

children!

It may be presumed that Mr. Snapson was by no means overpowered with gratitude at this last-mentioned privilege-indeed, remembering the inconsistencies of human nature, I will not venture to affirm that he would have rejected the opportunity of dispensing with it altogether, had any plausible excuse for doing so presented itself to his mind.

This was, however, out of the question; for the lady's former husband had, by a strange caprice, left nothing to his children, but everything to herself; and that only on condition that if at any time she changed her estate, the property, which was not large, should evert to another branch of the family.

In writing to Miss Sinden-the one whom he had so coolly forsaken -Mr. Snapson avoided explaining these particulars. He simply told er his intentions, in plain, forcible language, and left her to subnit-passively or otherwise, just as the case might be.

And she did submit. Her chief feeling, after the first shock had passed away, was that of thankfulness, at having escaped the lot of eing his wife. For her good sense and clear judgment showed her hat it could be nothing short of misery to pledge her faith to a man, nd discover when too late to repair the error that she had wholly misinterpreted his disposition and character.

And though a few rebellious tears trickled down her cheeks at the hought, not of wealth or station, which ought to have been hers unlike the generality of her sex, she cared very little for these nings), but because of disappointed hopes and misplaced confidence nd affection, she promptly collected the letters she had at various mes received from her faithless lover, and several trifling presents e had made her, and despatched them with all speed to his resience, unaccompanied by a word of anger or reproach.

Ten days later the marriage of Mr. Snapson with the Hon. Mrs. rey was announced in the London papers, as having been celeated with all the usual formalities at St. George's, Hanover Square;

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE ACCIDENT.

"Born low in fortune,

Yet with a mind aspiring to be great,

I must not scorn the steps which lead to it." "Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate."

THREE months had elapsed since Herbert came to take possession of his own pleasantly situated little cottage.

His purposes were at first very vague and unsettled, but gradually they began to assume a more decided form.

He soon found that if he would succeed in accomplishing all that he wished in the neighbourhood, he must abandon the idea of entering into any professional engagement, as, in consequence of there being two moderately sized hamlets within half a mile of his dwelling, both wearing a most neglected and desolate appearance, and both inhabited by a very ignorant-if not degraded-class of people, his whole time and attention was fully and profitably employed in the pursuit of those missionary labours which had so often before been attended with pleasure to himself, and deep and abiding spiritual advantage to the souls of others.

These two hamlets furnished workmen for the extensive factory I previously alluded to as having been recently erected near Herbert Cottage. The proprietor, Mr. Snapson, was a tall, thin, sharpfeatured, eagle-eyed man. He had begun life in the capacity of a poor, uneducated, hard-working mechanic: but, from reading much and thinking much, he rose step by step in the scale of society. His employers first watched, then respected and trusted, and finally promoted him. They saw that he was just the man they wanted, skilful, clear-headed, and practical-one whose words were few, but whose actions were always prompt and energetic.

As his prospects began to improve, so also did his earnings speedily increase. Nevertheless, his expenditure remained precisely the same: he denied himself everything except the absolute necessaries of life, and refused to allow the smallest margin for any additional outlay. Each surplus penny was well and cautiously invested, and by dint of strict economy, constant gaining and saving, together with some fortunate speculations, and the accumulated interests of many years' savings, his hundreds became thousands, and they, in their turn, went on augmenting with amazing rapidity, until he found himself the possessor-so it was currently reported-of a princely fortune.

Then he suddenly emerged from his retirement, and his character seemed to undergo a thorough and complete transformation. He was no longer the obscure and unknown individual he had hitherto been, but a man of wealth and fashion; desirous of cultivating the acquaintance of the rich and the great, and apparently anxious to