hut
near--Why, Brudenell, you ought to know all about it--near Brudenell
Hall!"

"Heaven and earth!"

"What is the matter?"

"The close room--the crowd--and this oppression of the chest that I have
had so many years!" gasped Herman Brudenell.

"Get into my carriage and come home with us. Come--I will take no
denial! The hotels are overcrowded. We can send for your luggage. Come!"

"Thank you; I think I will."

"Claudia! Beatrice! come forward, my dears. Here is Mr. Brudenell."

Courtesies were exchanged, and they all went out and entered the
carriage.

"I will introduce you to this young man, who has so much interested you,
and all the world, in fact, I suppose. He is living with us; and he will
be a lion from to-day, I assure you," said the judge, as soon as they
were all seated.

"Thank you! I was interested in--in those two poor sisters. One
died--what has become of the other?"

"She married my overseer, Gray; they are doing well. They are in the
city on a visit at present, stopping at the Farmer's, opposite Center
Market."

"Who educated this young man?"

"Himself."

"Did this unknown father make no provision for him?"

"None--the rascal! The boy was as poor as poverty could make him; but he
worked for his own living from the time he was seven years old."

Herman had feared as much, for he doubted the check he had written and
left for Hannah had ever been presented and cashed, for in the balancing
of his bankbook he never saw it among the others.

Meanwhile Ishmael had parted with his friends and gone home to the
Washington House. He knew that he had had a glorious success; but he
took no vain credit to himself; he was only happy that his service had
been a free offering to a good cause; and very thankful that it had been
crowned with victory. And when he reached home he went up to his little
chamber, knelt down in humble gratitude, and rendered all the glory to
God!

CHAPTER LVIII.

HERMAN BRUDENELL

My son! I seem to breathe that word,
In utterance more clear
Than other words, more slowly round
I move my lips, to keep the sound
Still lingering in my ear.

For were my lonely life allowed
To claim that gifted son,
I should be met by straining eyes,
Welcoming tears and grateful sighs
To hallow my return.

But between me and that dear son
There lies a bar, I feel,
More hard to pass, more girt with awe,
Than any power of injured law,
O