less would she consent to reap herself the benefit
of an injustice perpetrated upon him.

Some explanation, however, of the object of his visit he found it
necessary to make. When he had concluded the brief statement which he
thought sufficient, the lady answered in the softest voice in the
world--that she was sorry she could not enter upon that subject, as
she had promised Sir John Steventon not to interfere between him and
Mr Simpson--that Sir John had exacted this promise, and she had given
it, as necessary to facilitate the arrangement of her affairs. What
could she do, an unprotected woman, with the interests of her child
depending upon her? She was bound, therefore, she regretted to say,
not to intermeddle in the business. But then Mr Simpson could proceed
with his legal remedies. She did not presume to pass an opinion upon
the justice of his claim, or to advise him not to prosecute it.

In brief, she had given up the brave and honourable man, who had
befriended her at the peril of his fortune, to the revenge of the
wealthy, unscrupulous baronet, who had intended to defraud her. It was
so agreeable to be on amicable terms with her father's executor.

Our mathematician doubted his ears. Yet so it was. And it was all
repeated to him in the blandest manner in the world. She seemed to
think that a duty to any one else but her child was out of the
question. We believe that many interesting and beautiful mothers have
the same idea.

Mr Simpson gasped for breath. Some quite general remark was the only
one that rose to his lip. "You are angels--to look upon," he
half-murmured to himself.

It was not in his disposition to play the petitioner, and still less
to give vent to feelings of indignation, which would be thought to
have their origin only in his own personal injuries. It was still
surprise that was predominant in him, as at length he exclaimed--"But
surely, madam, you do not understand this matter. This annuity was
honestly won by long services rendered to your father, and to his son.
Instead of receiving other payments, I had preferred to be finally
remunerated in this form--it was my desire to obtain what in my humble
ideas was an independence, that I might devote my life to science.
Well, this annuity, it is my all--it stands between me and absolute
penury--it is the plank on which I sail over the waters of life. I
have, too, an object for my existence, which this alone renders
possible. I have studies to