etely
distanced him in his investigations, and then, with unexpected generosity,
placed his notes at my friend's disposal. His industry is almost
incredible. Conversing with Campbell concerning him, I learned that he was
a protege of the minister, who spoke of his future in singularly sanguine
terms. He left him some time since to embark in the practice of law. Do you
know him, Huntingdon?"

"No, sir! but I know that his father was sentenced to the gallows, and only
saved himself from it by cutting his miserable throat, and cheating the
law."

The master of the house thrust back his chair violently, crushing one of
Paragon's innocent paws as he crouched on the carpet, and overturning a
glass which shivered into a dozen fragments at his feet.

Looking at his watch, he said, as if wishing to cut the conversation short:
"Irene, if you intend to go to church to-day, it is time that you had your
bonnet on. Hugh, what will you do with yourself? Go with Eric and your
cousin!"

"No, I rather think I shall stay at home with you. After European
cathedrals, our American churches seem excessively plain." Irene went to
her room, pondering the conversation. She thought it remarkable that, as
long as she had been at home, she had never seen Russell, even on the
street.

Unlocking her writing-desk, she took out a tiny note which had accompanied
a check for two hundred dollars, and had reached her a few months before
she left boarding school. The firm, round, manly hand ran as follows--

"With gratitude beyond all expression for the favour conferred on my mother
and myself, some years since, I now return to Miss Huntingdon the money
which I have ever regarded as a friendly loan. Hoping that the future will
afford me some opportunity of proving my appreciation of her great
kindness,

"I remain, most respectfully,

"Her obliged friend,

"RUSSELL AUBREY.

"NEW YORK, _September 5th._"

She was conscious of a feeling of regret that the money had been returned;
it was pleasant to reflect on the fact that she had laid him under
obligation; now it all seemed cancelled. She relocked the desk, and,
drawing on her gloves, joined her uncle at the carriage. Arriving at church
later than was her wont, she found the family pew occupied by strangers,
and crossed the aisle to share a friend's, but at that instant a tall form
rose in Mr. Campbell's long-vacant pew, stepped into the aisle,