in! Again, in heart and in fancy, stand by my
side on the desolate bridge--hand in hand--orphans both, as we stood in
the days so sorrowful, yet, as I recall them, so sweet--Helen in
England, it is a dream!"

He rose, half consciously, and went to the window. The fountain played
merrily before his eyes, and the birds in the aviary carolled loud to
his ear. "And in this house," he murmured, "I saw her last! And there,
where the fountain now throws its stream on high--there her benefactor
and mine told me that I was to lose _her_, and that I might win--fame.
Alas!"

At this time a woman, whose dress was somewhat above her mien and air,
which, though not without a certain air of respectability, were very
homely, entered the room; and, seeing the young man standing thus
thoughtful by the window, paused. She was used to his habits; and since
his success in life, had learned to respect them. So she did not disturb
his reverie, but began softly to arrange the room--dusting, with the
corner of her apron, the various articles of furniture, putting a stray
chair or two in its right place, but not touching a single paper.
Virtuous woman, and rare as virtuous!

The young man turned at last, with a deep, yet not altogether painful
sigh--

"My dear mother, good day to you. Ah, you do well to make the room look
its best. Happy news! I expect a visitor!"

"Dear me, Leonard, will he want? lunch--or what?"

"Nay, I think not, mother. It is he to whom we owe all--'_Hoec otia
fecit_.' Pardon my Latin; it is Lord L'Estrange."

The face of Mrs. Fairfield (the reader has long since divined the name)
changed instantly, and betrayed a nervous twitch of all the muscles,
which gave her a family likeness to old Mrs. Avenel.

"Do not be alarmed, mother. He is the kindest--"

"Don't talk so; I can't bear it!" cried Mrs. Fairfield.

"No wonder you are affected by the recollection of all his benefits. But
when once you have seen him, you will find yourself ever after at your
ease. And so, pray, smile and look as good as you are; for I am proud of
your open honest look when you are pleased, mother. And he must see your
heart in your face as I do."

With this, Leonard put his arm round the widow's neck and kissed her.
She clung to him fondly for a moment, and he felt her tremble from head
to foot. Then she broke from his embrace, and hurried out of the room.
Leonard thought perhaps she had gone to improve her dress, or to carry
her housewi