his steps homewards, and with every echo of his
solitary footfall, with every sob of the passing night-wind, came back
upon his troubled heart, with thrilling sadness, Minny's last mournful
words, "Never again, never again!"

Again he reached the store, and the lock, obedient to the ponderous key,
turned noiselessly, and Wilkins entered. It was dark and gloomy, and a
chill passed over him as he fastened the door, and groped his way along
between the deserted counters. The scene through which he had just
passed had called up bitter and unpleasant memories, and there came over
him a sense of lonely desolation, such as he could not endure to
experience. He stopped a moment as he reached the high desk, and stood
there, silent and thoughtful.

"I will go to him," he muttered; "there is something holy in his
presence, which will make me happier."

With cautious steps he mounted the winding stairs, and sought the room
where Guly lay. The moment he approached the bedside, the boy started
from his restless pillow.

"Arthur, is it you?"

"It is me, Guly," returned Wilkins, in a low voice.

"You! and you come without him?"

"I come alone, Guly."

"And has anything happened--oh! do not keep it from me! Is Arthur hurt?
What brings you here, Wilkins, if it is not that?"

"I came here, Guly, with my own troubled heart, to look upon you as you
slept, and to go away happier. I have no news, either good or bad, of
poor Arthur."

Guly was silent a moment, then taking Wilkins' hand, he said:--

"I cannot tell you how much I thank you for the long and dreary walk you
have taken for my sake. Some day I hope to be able to repay your
kindness."

"Don't mention it, Guly; a mere trifle."

"It was a great deal to me; and now, Wilkins, would you just as soon lie
down by me as to sleep in your own bed? It must be nearly morning, but
this is a gloomy place to lie in alone, with only a troubled heart for
company."

"True, Guly; I will be with you in a moment."

They lay down together, and soon slept, side by side, exhausted by
watching and weariness; and the boy's fair head was pillowed on the
man's breast, rising and falling there like a golden shield, resting on
the bounding heart, "keeping the evil out."

CHAPTER XXI.

"'Tis done! I saw it in my dreams.
No more with hope the future beams;
My days of happiness are few.
Chilled by misfortune's wintry blast,
My dream of life is overcast.
Love,