etty soon. The
greatest good of the greatest number--that's my rule of action. There
are plenty of good institutions for the distressed, and I'm willing to
help support 'em, and do. But as for making a martyr of one's self, or
tilting against the necessary evils of society, or turning
philanthropist at large, or any quixotism of that sort, I don't believe
in it. We didn't make the world, and we can't mend it. Poor George.
Well--he's at rest. The world wasn't the place for him."

They grew silent. The spectre glided slowly to the wall, and stood as if
it were thinking what, with Dr. Renton's rule of action, was to become
of the greatest good of the smallest number. Nathalie sat on her
father's knee, thinking only of George Feval, and of his having been
starved and grieved to death.

"Father," said Nathalie, softly, "I felt, while you were reading the
letter, as if he were near us. Didn't you? The room was so light and
still, and the wind sighed so."

"Netty, dear, I've felt that all day, I believe," he replied. "Hark!
there is the door-bell. Off goes the spirit-world, and here comes the
actual. Confound it! Some one to see me, I'll warrant, and I'm not in
the mood."

He got into a fret at once. Netty was not the Netty of an hour ago, or
she would have coaxed him out of it. But she did not notice it now in
her abstraction. She had risen at the tinkle of the bell, and seated
herself in a chair. Presently a nose, with a great pimple on the end of
it, appeared at the edge of the door, and a weak, piping voice said,
reckless of the proper tense, "there was a woman wanted to see you,
sir."

"Who is it, James?--no matter, show her in."

He got up with the vexed scowl on his face, and walked the room. In a
minute the library door opened again, and a pale, thin, rigid,
frozen-looking little woman, scantily clad, the weather being
considered, entered, and dropped a curt, awkward bow to Dr. Renton.

"Oh! Mrs. Miller. Good evening, ma'am. Sit down," he said, with a cold,
constrained civility.

The little woman faintly said, "Good evening, Dr. Renton," and sat down
stiffly, with her hands crossed before her, in the chair nearest the
wall. This was the obdurate tenant, who had paid no rent for three
months, and had a notice to quit, expiring to-morrow.

"Cold evening, ma'am," remarked Dr. Renton, in his hard way.

"Yes, sir, it is," was the cowed, awkward answer.

"Won't you sit near the fire, ma'am," said Netty, gently;