s; of the
solitude in which thou has grown to be what thou art, and in which thou
hast lived apart from nearly all thy kind but one old man; I sometimes
fear I have dealt hardly by thee, Nell.'

'Grandfather!' cried the child in unfeigned surprise.

'Not in intention--no no,' said he. 'I have ever looked forward to the
time that should enable thee to mix among the gayest and prettiest, and
take thy station with the best. But I still look forward, Nell, I still
look forward, and if I should be forced to leave thee, meanwhile, how
have I fitted thee for struggles with the world? The poor bird yonder
is as well qualified to encounter it, and be turned adrift upon its
mercies--Hark! I hear Kit outside. Go to him, Nell, go to him.'

She rose, and hurrying away, stopped, turned back, and put her arms
about the old man's neck, then left him and hurried away again--but
faster this time, to hide her falling tears.

'A word in your ear, sir,' said the old man in a hurried whisper. 'I
have been rendered uneasy by what you said the other night, and can
only plead that I have done all for the best--that it is too late to
retract, if I could (though I cannot)--and that I hope to triumph yet.
All is for her sake. I have borne great poverty myself, and would spare
her the sufferings that poverty carries with it. I would spare her the
miseries that brought her mother, my own dear child, to an early grave.
I would leave her--not with resources which could be easily spent or
squandered away, but with what would place her beyond the reach of want
for ever. You mark me sir? She shall have no pittance, but a
fortune--Hush! I can say no more than that, now or at any other time,
and she is here again!'

The eagerness with which all this was poured into my ear, the trembling
of the hand with which he clasped my arm, the strained and starting
eyes he fixed upon me, the wild vehemence and agitation of his manner,
filled me with amazement. All that I had heard and seen, and a great
part of what he had said himself, led me to suppose that he was a
wealthy man. I could form no comprehension of his character, unless he
were one of those miserable wretches who, having made gain the sole end
and object of their lives and having succeeded in amassing great
riches, are constantly tortured by the dread of poverty, and best by
fears of loss and ruin. Many things he had said which I had been at a
loss to understand, were quite reconcilable with the ide