to hear him talk; Wilkins
conversed with them all in a general maner, yet watched, with a pleased
expression of countenance, Blanche and Guly as they sat side by side at
the little table, the blue eyes looking into the brown, and the locks of
gold lending a tinge of additional brightness to the curls of jetty
black.

They rose to leave at ten o'clock, and the old man took Guly's hand,
expressing a hope that he would repeat his visit; the boy uttered what
his heart at the moment felt, that it was the pleasantest evening of his
life, and his memory of it would not fail to induce him soon to seek a
like enjoyment.

Guly walked home like one in a dream. A seed had fallen on his heart's
rich soil, to spring up in time into fragrant bloom. In the holiest
niche of his heart a new lamp was lighted, and it burned before the
image of a Virgin!

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Never more
Shall hope's bright chain be gathered from the dust,
And, re-united, glitter as before,
Strong and unsullied by corroding dust."

When they reached the store door, Wilkins rapped before entering, and
Guly, remembering that Quirk was within, and not wishing to meet that
young gentleman, told Wilkins he would go to his own room by the
alley-way. He had the pass-key for the small door; so they shook hands
and parted, just as the front door was being opened.

In a few moments Guly stood in the large old room, which was the only
spot he could look upon as home.

All that surrounded him was darkness and gloom; for he had no lamp, and
the night-light of heaven never entered there. But Guly was happy, and
the bare floor had lost its hardness to him as he knelt to pour out the
fervent prayer of gratitude gushing from his heart.

He had forgotten to listen for his brother's breathing, from the lowly
bed in the corner; the throbbing of his own glad heart was all he heard,
and for once in his life Guly was selfishly happy.

But when he threw himself upon his pillow, he became conscious that he
was alone; there was no gentle hand, half-roused from slumber, to creep
about him with a brother's love, and there was no half-escaped sigh or
murmured word of half-awakened welcome. Arthur's pillow was cold, his
place deserted.

As soon as he became conscious of this fact, the glow of happiness and
delight went out in his heart, like a suddenly smothered lamp. He had
expected Arthur would return as soon as he left