observed that two
or three mistakes in spelling had been corrected, either in another pen
or in a different hand.

"Dear brother Dick, how good in him!" cried the widow. "When I saw there
was money, I thought it must be him. How I should like to see Dick
again. But I s'pose he's still in Amerikay. Well, well, this will buy
clothes for you."

"No; you must keep it all, mother, and put it in the Savings' Bank."

"I'm not quite so silly as that," cried Mrs. Fairfield, with contempt;
and she put the fifty pounds into a cracked teapot.

"It must not stay there when I'm gone. You may be robbed, mother."

"Dear me, dear me, that's true. What shall I do with it?--what do I want
with it, too! Dear me! I wish they hadn't sent it. I shan't sleep in
peace. You must e'en put it in your own pouch, and button it up tight,
boy."

Lenny smiled, and took the note; but he took it to Mr. Dale, and begged
him to put it into the Savings' Bank for his mother.

The day following he went to take leave of his master, of Jackeymo, of
the fountain, the garden. But, after he had gone through the first of
these adieus with Jackeymo,--who, poor man, indulged in all the lively
gesticulations of grief which make half the eloquence of his countrymen;
and then, absolutely blubbering, hurried away--Leonard himself was so
affected that he could not proceed at once to the house, but stood
beside the fountain, trying hard to keep back his tears.

"You, Leonard--and you are going!" said a soft voice; and the tears fell
faster than ever, for he recognized the voice of Violante.

"Do not cry," continued the child, with a kind of tender gravity. "You
are going, but papa says it would be selfish in us to grieve, for it is
for your good; and we should be glad. But I am selfish, Leonard, and I
do grieve. I shall miss you sadly."

"You, young lady--you miss me!"

"Yes. But I do not cry, Leonard, for I envy you, and I wish I were a
boy: I wish I could do as you."

The girl clasped her hands, and reared her slight form, with a kind of
passionate dignity.

"Do as me, and part from all those you love!"

"But to serve those you love. One day you will come back to your
mother's cottage, and say, 'We have conquered fortune.' Oh that I could
go forth and return, as you will. But my father has no country, and his
only child is a useless girl."

As Violante spoke, Leonard had dried his tears; her emotion distracted
him from his own.

"Oh," continued Viola