rom the contrast it afforded with his miserable condition--his
frightful poverty.

"I have to ask your pardon," said I, "for this intrusion, but your name is
Warton, I believe?"

"It is, sir," he replied--and the eyes of the wife glistened again, as she
gathered hope and comfort from my unexpected visit. She trembled as she
looked at me, and the tears gushed forth again.

("These are not bad people, I will swear it," I said to myself, as I
marked her, and I took confidence from the conviction, and went on.)

"I have come to you," said I, "straight from the sessions'-house, where,
by accident, I was present during your short trial. I wish to be of a
little service to you. I am not a rich man, and my means do not enable me
to do as much as I would desire; but I can relieve your immediate want,
and perhaps do something more for you hereafter, if I find you are
deserving of assistance."

"You are very kind, sir," answered the man, "and I am very grateful to
you. We are strangers to you, sir, but I trust these (pointing to his wife
and children) _may_ deserve your bounty. For myself--"

"Hush, dear!" said his wife, with a gentleness and accent that confounded
me. _Low_ people! why, with full stomachs, decent clothing, and a few
pounds, they might with every propriety have been ushered at once into a
drawing-room.

"Poor Warton is very ill, sir," continued the wife, "and much suffering
has robbed him of his peace of mind. I am sure, sir, we shall be truly
grateful for your help. We need it, sir, Heaven knows, and he is not
undeserving--no, let them say what they will."

I believed it in my heart, but I would not say so without less partial
evidence.

"Well," I continued, "we will talk of this by and by. I am determined to
make a strict enquiry, for your own sakes as well as my own. But you are
starving now, it seems, and I sha'n't enquire whether you deserve a loaf
of bread. Here," said I, giving, them a sovereign, "get something to eat,
for God's sake, and put a little colour, if you can, into those little
faces when they wake again."

The man started suddenly from his chair, and walked quickly to the window.
His wife followed him, alarmed, and took the infant from his arms, whilst
he himself pressed his hand to his heart, as though he would prevent its
bursting. His face grew deathly pale. The female watched him earnestly,
and the hitherto silent and morose man, convulsed by excess of feeling,
quivered in every