any me, sir," I answered, "but he will
shortly come."

"Thank you, Stukely, thank you. I have good news for you. I can
afford you time to recruit and be yourself again. The lads return
home on Monday next; you shall have a month's holiday, and you shall
spend it as you will--with us, or elsewhere. If your health will be
improved by travelling, I shall be happy to provide you with the
means. I cannot afford to lose your services. You must not get ill."

"You are very kind, sir," I replied--"kinder than I deserve."

"That is a matter of opinion, Stukely. I do not think so. You have
served me faithfully and well. I consult my own interest in rewarding
you and taking care of yours."

"Yes, sir--but"--

"Well, never mind now. We will not argue on whose side the obligation
lies. It is perhaps well that we should both of us think as we do. It
is likely that we shall both perform our duty more strictly if we
strike the balance against ourselves. Go and refresh yourself. You
look tired and worn. Get a glass of wine, and cheer up. Have you
seen Miss Fairman?"

"It is concerning her, sir," I answered, trembling in every joint,
"that I desire particularly to speak to you."

"Good heaven!" exclaimed the incumbent, starting from his chair,
"what do you mean? What is the matter? What has happened? Why do you
tremble, Stukely, and look so ghastly pale? What has happened since
the morning? What ails her? Go on. Speak. Tell me at once. My poor
child--what of her?"

"Calm yourself, I implore you, sir. Miss Fairman is quite well.
Nothing has happened. Do not distress yourself. I have done very
wrong to speak so indiscreetly. Pardon me, sir. I should have known
better. She is well."

Mr. Fairman paced the room in perturbation, and held his hand upon
his heart to allay its heavy throbs.

"This is very wrong," he said--"very impious. I have thought of
nothing else this day--and this is the consequence. I have dwelt
upon the probability of calamity, until I have persuaded myself of
its actual presence--looked for woe, until I have created it. This
is not the patience and resignation which I teach; for shame, for
shame!--go to thy closet, worm--repent and pray."

Mr. Fairman resumed his seat, and hid his face for a time in his
hands. At length he spoke again.

"Proceed, Stukely. I am calm now. The thoughts and fears in which it
was most sinfull to indulge, and which accumulated in this most
anxious breast, are dissipated. What