. Mrs. Lawson's heart
palpitated with eagerness--if it should be her husband's father in his
own carriage--how delightful! that horrible Mrs. Thompson had not a
carriage of her own yet, though she was always talking of it. They, Mrs.
Lawson and her husband, had just been about setting up a carriage when
business failed with them. She ran briskly down the stairs--for long
years she had not flown with such alertness--rapid visions of gold, of
splendor, and triumph seemed to bear her along, as if she had not been a
being of earth.

She was not disappointed, for there, at the open door, stood John
Lawson. He was enveloped in a cloak of fur, the costliness of which told
Mrs. Lawson that it was the purchase of wealth; a servant in plain
livery supported him, for he seemed a complete invalid.

Mrs. Lawson threw her arms around his neck, and embraced him with a
warmth and eagerness which brought a cold and bitter smile over the
white, thin lips of John Lawson. He replied briefly to the welcomings he
received. He threw aside his cloak, and exhibited the figure of an
exceedingly emaciated and feeble old man, who had all the appearance of
ninety years, though he was little more than sixty; his face was worn
and fleshless to a painful degree; his hair was of the whitest shade of
great age, but his eyes had grown much more serene in their expression
than in his earlier days, notwithstanding a cast of suffering which his
whole countenance exhibited. He was plainly, but most carefully and
respectably dressed; a diamond ring of great value was on one of his
fingers; the lustre of the diamonds caught Mrs. Lawson's glance on her
first inspection of his person, and her heart danced with rapture--Mrs.
Thompson had no such ring, with all her boasting of all her finery.

"I have come to see my child before I die," said the old man, gazing on
his son with earnest eyes; "you broke the ties of nature between us on
your part, when, ten years ago, you refused your father a few shillings
from your abundance, but--"

He was interrupted by Mrs. Lawson, who uttered many voluble
protestations of her deep grief at her having, even though for the sake
of economy, refused the money her dear father had solicited before he
left them. She vowed that she had neither ate, nor slept, nor even
dressed herself for weeks after his departure; and that, sleeping or
waking, she was perpetually wishing she had given him the money, even
though she had known that h