e usual Oriental stillness about
the building as I entered. A few servants were flitting about
noiselessly among the pillars of the vast hall, and through the open
doors of the chambers leading from it. Others were reposing on mats in
the shade. Although I had grown considerably, I was soon recognised.
The words, "The young sahib has returned! the young sahib has returned!"
were soon echoed among them; and those who had known me, hurried forward
to meet me. Their kind looks and expressions cheered my heart, which
was heavy with fear as to the information I was about to receive.

From my inquiries I learned that Sir Charles was still alive, though the
medical man entertained but slight hopes of his recovery. He had
frequently asked for me, and had desired that as soon as I arrived I
should be conducted into his presence. In another minute I was by the
bedside of my benefactor. By the pale light which was admitted into the
room, I could perceive the alteration which sickness had wrought on his
countenance; and I, too truly, feared that the hand of death had already
stamped its mark upon it.

My name was mentioned; he recognised me instantly, and stretched out his
hand affectionately to press mine. Tears started into my eyes, and my
heart swelled with the pain I tried to conceal, lest it should distress
him.

"I am glad you are come in time, my dear boy," he said in a weak voice.
"I have much to speak of, and my hours are numbered. I would recommend
you to these kind friends, for you will want comfort and aid, though
they would give it unasked."

At these words I looked up, and for the first time perceived that some
other persons were in the room--a gentleman and a lady. The first I did
not know; but I soon, to my infinite satisfaction, recognised in the
other my old and charming playmate--once Ellen Barrow, now Mrs
Northcote--not less charming, but more matronly than before. She and
her husband shook hands most kindly with me; but we had no time for
conversation before I was again summoned to the bedside of Sir Charles.
His looks showed that he wished to speak on some matter of importance;
but his voice was so low that it was scarcely audible. He beckoned me
to lean forward to listen to him.

"My dear Mark," he whispered, "I am the only person in the world you
know of, on whom you have any claim; and let it be a consolation to you,
that I think you have amply repaid me for my care of you. Remember my
la