"I could not do that," said Angelo, alarmed; "you would never advise me to do that, surely?"

"You are not good enough for her." "I own it, I am proud to own it." "You have scarcely an idea in common with her," Brian went on; "she is above you in mind and education, and must infallibly look down upon you. She is strong and you are weak-she is a woman and you are a child."

"I do not wish to be anything but her slave. And I shall love her all my life, sir."

Angelo's voice broke again, and he leaned forwards eagerly, as if to reason down Brian's estimate of the position which he had set before him. There were tears in the weak man's eyes, but the strength of the passion at his heart had forced them there to make the child of him which Brian had

just said that he was. He had only one excuse, his love.

"I had better strike whilst the iron is hot; tell her the whole truth simply and plainly, and that I never thought for an instant of her money when my heart turned towards her, as a flower to the sun."

Brian gave a spasmodic laugh at this. "Poor sunflower!" he said, arranging his papers; "if you can find your way down stairs without an escort I shall be obliged to you."

"I shall be able to let myself out," said Angelo; "and you will allow me to say again that I am extremely indebted to you. "For what?"

"You can do no more than love her all your life," said Brian, sorrowfully; "tell her so, and win her. A woman is only ungrateful to true affection when she is no true woman."

"I am extremely obliged to you for that advice, Mr. Halfday—and you really think I may win her for a wife ?"

"It is possible," answered Brian.

"I was afraid I had not half a chance, but you give me courage somehow. I am so very glad," he added, "that I have called upon you."

"Have you any clue wherewith to find Miss Westbrook ?"

"I think I can find her very easily."

My sister Dorcas is with her still?" "Yes."

"Dorcas will have to return here, and be housekeeper once more," murmured Brian; "the old life, and the old quarrels from which Mabel Westbrook might have saved her, perhaps, at some cost to herself. Though I did not advise her-though I warned her in every way in my power."

Angelo Salmon did not reply to this the words were not intended for his hearing, and he took no heed of them. He had no interest in anything that did not immediately refer to Mabel Westbrook, with whom his thoughts were bound up heart and soul.

"Have I said as much as that?" returned Brian, half absently. "Have I told you to save her with your wealth from the poverty of which she does not dream-to give an honest man's love, home, and protection to a woman who is singularly alone, and who has met with singular misfortunes? I have said all this-advised all this, then, after all?"

"Yes. Don't you think I—”

"There, there, seek her out and prove to her that friends are not eager to desert her because the money is flown," said Brian, irritably; "under any circumstances, your friendship or love will not do her any harm. Stay."

Angelo paused at the door.

"Would her rejection of your suit do any harm to you?" asked Brian. "You are not a strong man, and that is to be considered."

"I hardly expect to be accepted all at once," said Angelo, modestly.

"To be taken by instalments, instead, as the robbers took her grandfather's bank shares ?" said Brian.

"I am not going to act rashly," replied Angelo, shivering at the idea of any undue precipitation; "I am going to ask for hope -to tell her the state of my feelings, and to leave hers to-to-to grow towards me in good time; as they will, I trust, when she is convinced that mine are deep and lasting.

Lean on me. Have you dined?"

Have you drunk much wine at dinner?" Brian asked, curiously.

"I have drunk nothing but water to-day. Why, you don't think--"

"No, I don't think that now; excuse the questions," said Brian, "but your legs are unsteady."

"It's my natural emotion. My knees are perfectly uncontrollable when anything serious affects me, and this, you see, is a crisis in my life. A great crisis, which you do not seem to understand."

"Yes, yes, I understand you very clearly," answered Brian; "but, after all, it is no business of mine."

"And does not affect you. I know that, Mr. Halfday; but still I thought you would be interested, in some degree, in the step I thought of taking."

"In some degree, I am. This way." Brian and his visitor went down stairs to the great hall, where Brian opened the door and let in the night air and the light of the

stars.

"It's a beautiful night," said Angelo; "will you wish me God speed before I start ?"

"If for the best-and for Miss Westbrook's sake-I wish it," answered Brian.

"Thank you. And if, before I go, you will let me call you friend-and consider you my friend from this hour, I should be glad," Angelo said with great earnest

ness.

"I never make friends," said Brian, more gloomily than churlishly.

"I am not a bad companion when I am understood thoroughly."

"Probably not-but I shall be always. companionless."

"It must be dull work for you," was the quaint response.

"I have my studies, my books; I am never alone."

Angelo Salmon took the hint, and went down the steps after shaking hands with the curator of the Museum, who lingered at the door watching him until his figure was lost in the night mists.

"And I have let him go to her—with his simple heart, his truth, and his money-I have wished him God speed!" muttered Brian. "Well, well, it is surely for the best, and if she thinks so too, I shall not mind."

He stepped back with his hand upon the door, which he was closing softly, when some one from without pushed it gently inwards. Brian stood aside, offering no opposition, and a man whom he recognised immediately shrank rather than came into the hall, and glanced furtively from beneath his hat at the curator. It was the man who had broken his word to him at Datchet Bridge-the father who had betrayed him on that night, as he had betrayed him years ago, when Dorcas and he were little children.

"Brian," said the newcomer, in a husky voice.

"You are not wanted here. You have no business with honest men," said Brian, sternly. "Your way lies beyond this house, where I will not have you stay."

"Pray, let me come in. Don't treat me badly. I don't mean badly by you; I don't, indeed," urged Mr. Halfday, senior.

"I have done with you," was the firm reply.

"I have come on particular businessprivate and confidential, Brian, and I want your advice very badly."

"More advice!" said Brian, shrugging his shoulders.

"It's about that money of Miss Westbrook's. Something has happened since I saw you last. I don't know what to do!"

likely to affect her, he set aside his sterner self, or that sterner will belonging to him. As long as she lived, this ill-treated lady, beggared by error and miscalculation, should have his sympathy and watchful care at every hazard. He closed the door, and garded his father with a greater scrutiny. Mr. Halfday senior was not looking much better in health; he was still waxen and angular of face and feature, and that palsied movement of the hands to which attention has been directed was strikingly apparent in the first moments of the interview. He had been uncertain of the nature of his welcome; he had been afraid of Brian, and it had been a struggle with his nerves-fortified even with pale brandy-to face him. again, despite the necessity which had taken his steps to the Museum.

"What has happened that you come to me?" asked Brian; "what of this money for which you cast me off for ever?"

"Not for ever, Brian. Don't speak so cruelly to your own father; I can't bear it, really."

"Yes-the man is my own father," muttered Brian. "Heaven help him and me,

in its good time."

"Amen to that, Brian. For if we stand by each other, and help each other—” "What do you want?" cried Brian, fiercely. "State your business, and be as brief as you can. And remember this," he added, advancing so quickly towards his father that Mr. Halfday senior backed to wards the door, "that I do not trust you, and that nothing you can say or do will make me trust you again."

"Not when I have placed my whole confidence in you?" said the father.

66 No."

"Yes, you will. You will see then that I mean well, and have always meant well by my fellow-creatures. But are we going to talk in this place?"

Brian reflected for a moment.

"What brings you here?" asked Brian, unmoved by this half protest and half apology.

"I kept you in remembrance, Brian. I sent you a letter."

"A lawyer's letter-yes."

"It was formal, but it was my solicitor's wish that it should be so, and I was entirely in the hands of my solicitor. I hope, my dear boy," he said with extreme anxiety, "you have not taken offence at it."

"Tell me what you want with me?" said Brian; "these papers may give you a hint that I am pressed for time to-night."

"I have no wish to take up your time unnecessarily," answered the father, "only I thought a few preliminary remarks might set us on a better footing. For you are aggrieved."

"Yes."

"I am sorry—it is not my fault. I could not trust you all at once; it was not natural. Comparatively speaking, you were a stranger to me, and we met in the dark, and in a high wind. To expect a sudden burst of confidence under those conditions was scarcely to be expected."

Brian sat down before his desk and took up his old position, with his thin hands clasped together on the papers with which it was covered. He did not interrupt his father in the profuse explanation which was proffered him, but when it was completed, his sole reply was a fixed stare that was not pleasant to encounter. Mr. Halfday looked away and coughed behind his claw-like

"I think it will be better."

They went upstairs to the curator's apartment, where for the second time that night a visitor was shown.

"You have a snug berth here, Brian," said Mr. Halfday, seating himself in the chair which Angelo Salmon had previously occupied, "and here you would have taken

chair, and began to shake with his old

was deposited by Miss Westbrook to the account of Adam Halfday-you are angry with me because I claim it as heir-at-law." "It was deposited by mistake. It was not money belonging to my grandfather, I have told you," said Brian.

"Had I not come back to England, you would have claimed the money?"

"Yes-and restored it to its rightful owner."

"I am a man of the world and understand human nature-you would have been its rightful owner, and no one else," said Mr. Halfday. "Miss Westbrook must have been pretty sure to whom the cash belonged when she paid it into Penton Bank."

"Will you oblige me by not mentioning Miss Westbrook's name again?" said Brian emphatically.

"You began it; not I. I have no wish to mention it."

"And will you tell me what you want with me?"

"If I knew you a little better," said the father, regretfully, we should get on comfortably together. Over a glass or two of grog now, and a good cigar, we might sink our small differences, and become father and son in real earnest. I don't want to run in opposition to you-I want to work with. you; upon my soul I do!"

This William Halfday was not a deep man—and the little cunning that was in him was of a flimsy type, that lowered him with out concealing his real nature. He had been unsuccessful all his life, from sheer lack of brains-which failed him in the present crisis as they had many times before.

"Proceed," said Brian, as he paused. "I am listening attentively to your arguments."

"Since we parted, I have been making inquiries about you," the father continued, as it was my duty to do before I acted blindly on the various instructions which you gave me at Datchet Bridge. You asked for my whole confidence too quickly-too peremptorily, if you remember ? "

Brian nodded his head. To have anwered the question would have been to

lose time in arriving at the motive for this man's visit to him.

"My solicitor thought it would be wise. of me to prosecute a few investigations, and he instituted inquiries on his own account, and in the interest of his client."

Brian nodded again, as if he admired his father's caution, and had nothing to say against the means which had been adopted to discover his true character.

"And we have heard nothing to your disadvantage, Brian," said Mr. Halfday; "you are known all over Penton as a long-headed man with a faculty for figures, and as hard a fellow at driving a bargain as any in the city. You have saved money and invested money cleverly-you are fond of money."

"I am fond of money," echoed Brian, breaking silence at last; "yes."

"All right, then. We shall get on famously together. Suppose now," he leaned forward, and began to shake more vigorously as he approached the subject which had brought him thither, "I offer to share this legacy with you to give you one fair half of all we may obtain by acting together in concert-shoulder to shoulder, you know! -would you not say I was honest in the matter?"

"If you could do without my help, I should say you were liberal," replied Brian, somewhat enigmatically, "and if you require it, I should think you were politic."

Mr. Halfday considered the reply before he said, suddenly :

"Yes I require it." "I thought so."

"Without we help each other," said Mr. Halfday, "this money will be lost to the two of us—we shall not get a penny of it— and I may be a clog upon you for the remainder of your days.'

29

"I see," said Brian with another of his emphatic nods, "it is halves, or nothing." "That is exactly the position."

"Did your solicitor suggest this amicable arrangement between us?" asked Brian.

"He has not the slightest idea there is any hitch in the matter. He believes everything is going on smoothly and successfully towards my prosperity-and I dare not tell him a single word."

"He would be shocked, perhaps?"

"He would pretend to be shocked," was the reply; "I don't believe in the fine feel