relieved. "What a bore the light is! my eyes can't bear it." He hurriedly drew down the blinds, though it was a dull October day, and the windows looked north, and again paced up and down the room.

Suddenly he came and stood before his brother, and began speaking very quickly."I don't suppose you are aware, Charles, that I was married before now?" Charles opened his eyes to their widest extent. "You need not stare so, Charles," he said, impatiently; "I say I was married many years ago, to a curate's daughter, in the country.” He paused.

"She isn't alive, George?" said the young lawyer, looking aghast, as the visions of a trial for bigamy flitted before his eyes.

"Alive?-Why, what do you take me for? Alive," he repeated, in a lower voice, as he walked restlessly up and down, "no ;-poor Amy!" He passed his hand over his eyes, and was silent for some minutes; then began again.

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Well, Charles, I married, as I said, many years ago. I was a brute then, and I soon

left

my wife and went to India. Some months afterwards, I found that I had a daughter, and that she was dead." Again he paused.

"Is your daughter alive?" asked the young man, timidly.

"I don't know. I never inquired, from that day to this. I thought she would be better taken care of, where she was. I tell you, I was a brute then, but now I should like to hear of her, and I wish that you should manage it for me. I will give you all directions: will you go and see her, under a false name? See if she lives, and see what she is like? If she is an awkward, vulgar girl, I will own her, that I have determined to do at any rate, and I will give her a large fortune; but I will not have her to live with me. It would be false kindness-it would be too late for me to begin to love her, under such circumstances. If she is ladylike-I must use a word I hate, I don't care about beauty-but if she is ladylike, it is enough. You may then go to her from me, or, perhaps not. Come back to me, with your opinion. If she is

worthy of it, I will go and humble myself to her family, for her sake. Do you understand me, Charles? Will you undertake the journey, and perform it discreetly? I will trust it entirely to you."

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"I will

Willingly," answered the young man. go to-morrow. Sunday will be a good day to see her, without being seen myself."

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Yes, a very good idea; and to-morrow night make inquiries at the inn, about her character. I leave it all to you. Good bye; it was a bad business," and he sighed; "but don't hate me for it." The brothers shook hands, and Charles took leave.

"What a strange story!" thought he, as he went down the steps. "I don't half like it. Neglecting the child, too, all these years! Why, she must be twenty, I suppose. By the bye, I never got any breakfast, after all!"

The result of Charles Denison's journey has been related in the preceding chapter.

CHAPTER VIII.

Mais, non, je garde une espérance,
Car elle a dit "je reviendrai."

Romance.

The report of Charles Denison to his brother made him determine to lose no time in claiming his long-neglected child. But, as the moment drew near, his promised personal humiliation to the Shepherds became more and more obnoxious to him. He dreaded it; he dreaded the sight of Ellerton, and all the familiar scenes of his wanderings with Amy; he dreaded, too, the excitement it must cause to his own feelings; and, though he was far from being without good qualities, his character had not that nobleness which gladly endures pain, if, enduring, it can in any way atone for error.

He had a great deal to undergo in owning his child-in making known to his wife his family, his friends, his early marriage; and he told the truth-he made no false storyhe was above that; but he was willing to spare himself where it was possible; and, excusing himself under the plea of its being necessary that he should remain with his wife, who, never very strong, had, on arriving in England, caught rather an alarming cold, he determined that all the necessary communications should be made in writing, and that, having prepared them, Charles Denison should return and bring his daughter to London.

He wrote to Miss Shepherd, enclosing a letter to Isabel. To the former he did not spare himself; he did the fullest justice to Amy, and professed to be willing to receive all the reproaches her sister could lavish upon him.

They were sitting at breakfast in the cottage about ten days after Charles Denison's visit to Ellerton. The letters were brought