hat went, how the great change had come, the
dreadful bolt had fallen, and how they would now all have to turn
themselves about. Therefore cruel as it was to them to part with their
darling she must look to him to carry a little further the influence he
had so fortunately acquired with the boy--to induce his young charge to
follow him into some modest retreat. They depended on him--that was the
fact--to take their delightful child temporarily under his protection; it
would leave Mr. Moreen and herself so much more free to give the proper
attention (too little, alas! had been given) to the readjustment of their
affairs.

"We trust you--we feel we _can_," said Mrs. Moreen, slowly rubbing her
plump white hands and looking with compunction hard at Morgan, whose
chin, not to take liberties, her husband stroked with a paternal
forefinger.

"Oh yes--we feel that we _can_. We trust Mr. Pemberton fully, Morgan,"
Mr. Moreen pursued.

Pemberton wondered again if he might pretend not to understand; but
everything good gave way to the intensity of Morgan's understanding. "Do
you mean he may take me to live with him for ever and ever?" cried the
boy. "May take me away, away, anywhere he likes?"

"For ever and ever? Comme vous-y-allez!" Mr. Moreen laughed indulgently.
"For as long as Mr. Pemberton may be so good."

"We've struggled, we've suffered," his wife went on; "but you've made him
so your own that we've already been through the worst of the sacrifice."

Morgan had turned away from his father--he stood looking at Pemberton
with a light in his face. His sense of shame for their common humiliated
state had dropped; the case had another side--the thing was to clutch at
_that_. He had a moment of boyish joy, scarcely mitigated by the
reflexion that with this unexpected consecration of his hope--too sudden
and too violent; the turn taken was away from a _good_ boy's book--the
"escape" was left on their hands. The boyish joy was there an instant,
and Pemberton was almost scared at the rush of gratitude and affection
that broke through his first abasement. When he stammered "My dear
fellow, what do you say to _that_?" how could one not say something
enthusiastic? But there was more need for courage at something else that
immediately followed and that made the lad sit down quietly on the
nearest chair. He had turned quite livid and had raised his hand to his
left side. They were all three looking at him, but Mrs. More