g, in her grim way, to crush down within her heart the
anguished thought that her beloved and worshipped brother lay at the point
of death.

And Miss Owen--with what emotions did she contemplate the possibility of
that dread event the actual occurrence of which became more probable
every day? She went about her duties like one in a dream. What would it
mean to her if he were to die? She would lose a great benefactor, and a
dear friend; and that would be grief enough. But was there not something
more that she would lose--something which had seemed almost within her
grasp, which it had hitherto been the hope, and yet the fear, of her life
that she might find, but which, of late, she had desired to find with an
ardent and unhalting hope? It was with a sick heart that the young
secretary discharged, from day to day, her now familiar duties. She was
now so well acquainted with the mind of her employer, that she could deal
with the correspondence almost as well without, as with, his help. But she
missed him every moment, and the thought that he might never again take
his place over against her at the office table filled her with bitter
grief.

There were others who were anxious on account of the peril which
threatened the life of "the Golden Shoemaker."

Mr. Durnford was weighted with grave concern. He called every day to see
his friend; and each time he left the sick-chamber, he was uncertain
whether his predominant feeling was that of sorrow for the illness and
danger of so good a man, or rejoicing that, in his pain and peril,
"Cobbler" Horn was so patient and resigned.

In the breasts of many who were accustomed to receive benefits at the
hands of "the Golden Shoemaker," there was great distress. Every day, and
almost every hour, there were callers, chiefly of the humbler classes,
with anxious enquiries on their lips. Not the least solicitous of these
were "the Little Twin Brethren." Tommy Dudgeon almost continually haunted
the house where his honoured friend lay in such dire straits. The anxiety
of the little man was intensified by a burning desire to know whether his
desperate appeal on the subject of the "sec'tary" had produced its
designed effect on the mind of "Cobbler" Horn.

Public sympathy with "Cobbler" Horn and his anxious friends ran deep; and
every one who could claim, in any degree, the privilege of a friend, made
frequent enquiry as to the sufferer's state. But neither public sympathy
nor private grief w