own dear little wife!' was whispered in his ear. He
pinched her again, and, still holding her fast, said, 'Is Percy there?
Come in,' and, as he entered, 'Percy, I once warned you to kill the cat
on the wedding-day. I testify that she is dead. This sister of mine is a
good girl now. Ask Violet.'

'Violet--or, rather, our Heartsease'--said Percy, as his grasp nearly
crushed Violet's soft fingers: 'thank you; yours was the most admirable
note ever composed! Never was more perfect "eloquence du billet!"'

'Eh! what was it?'

Percy held up the little note before Arthur's eyes: he laughed. 'Ay!
Violet is the only woman I ever knew who never said more than was to
the purpose. But now, Mrs. Heartsease, if that is your name, go and put
Theodora to bed; Percy will stay with me.'

'The baby,' objected Violet.

'Never mind, I want you very much,' said Theodora; 'and as Percy says he
has so much superfluous energy, he can take care of two Arthurs at once.
I am only afraid of his making the great one talk.'

'The great one' was at first as silent as the little one; his
countenance became very grave and thoughtful; and at last he said, 'Now,
Percy, you must consent to my selling out and paying you.'

'If you do, it must be share and share alike with the rest of the
creditors.'

'And that would be no good,' said Arthur, 'with all the harpies to
share. I wish you would consent, Percy. Think what it is to me to lie
here, feeling that I have ruined not only myself, but all my sister's
hopes of happiness!'

'Nay, you have been the means of bringing us together again. And as to
your wife--'

'I must not have her good deeds reckoned to me,' said Arthur, sadly.
'But what can you do? My father cannot pay down Theodora's fortune.'

'We must wait,' interrupted Percy, cheerfully.

Arthur proceeded. 'Wait! what for? Now you are cut out of Worthbourne,
and my aunt's money might as well be at the bottom of the sea, and--'

'I can hear no croaking on such a day as this,' broke in Percy. 'As to
Worthbourne, it is ill waiting for dead men's shoon. I always thought
Pelham's as good a life as my own, and I never fancied Mrs. Nesbit's
hoards. If I made three thousand pounds in five years, why may I not do
so again? I'll turn rapacious--give away no more articles to benighted
editors on their last legs. I can finish off my Byzantine history, and
coin it into bezants.'

'And these were your hard-earned savings, that should have forwarded