almost say, for thisPoor Walter, poor Walter, what would he do! All his whole life was bound up in her, in her his every thought centred. How would he—wait though! She was not so sure of what she was saying! Who was this—Lady Caroline Somebody, of whom he wrote so strongly? Two or three times he had mentioned her in his letters. Marian recollected having smiled at Walter's first description of this great lady, who, though he tried to disguise it, had evidently been struck with him; but now she seized on the idea with quite a different object in view. Suppose she should carry out what she had in her mind, it would be expedient for her to show to the world—to such portion of the world as chose to be inquisitive or indignant about her proceedings—that all shame, so far as breaking off the original engagement was concerned, did not rest with her, that Walter himself had not kept faith with She broke off the thread of her thought abruptly, she could not battle with herself, she knew how vain and ridiculous the accusation would be, how the object of it would shake it from him with scorn; but it had a certain semblance of truth and likelihood, and it would do to bring forward, in case any such defence were ever needed.
"Well, missy," said Mr. Creswell, looking up from the papers on which he was engaged, "you see I've been compelled to send for my assistant; I couldn't get on without her."
"Your assistant is only too glad to come when she finds she can be of use to you, sir. Has the pass-book come from the bank, and did you get those returns you asked for from the Wharfdale Company?"
"What a memory you have, child! I declare I had forgotten what had stopped our work the other morning. I remembered only that you would have gone on until you dropped, but for want of material. Yes, they are both here."
"I see! and the totals both approximate to the sums you mentioned. There will be no difficulty now in preparing the rough balance-sheet. Shall I begin that at once?"
"No, no, missy! that is too large an undertaking for you. I'll have that done down at the office. I'm only too thankful to you for the assistance you've rendered me in getting the items into order, and in checking matters which I could not possibly have submitted to an uninterested person, and which I'm—well, I'm afraid I must say it—too old to go into myself!"
"Since you praise me, I have a right to claim a reward, and I demand to be allowed to carry out my work to the end. I shall be proud of it, proud to think that, when next these accounts are gone through, you will be able to look at mine, and see that they do no discredit to your bookkeeping pupil."
There was a slight change in Mr. Creswell's voice as he said, "My child, I don't suppose this task will occur again in my lifetime. It would have stood over well until my poor boy came of age, had it pleased God to spare him. I have only done it now from a renewal of the old stocktaking habit, a desire to see how my worldly affairs stood before" But the voice broke, and the sentence was left unfinished.
"But surely, sir, it must be a source of pride, and of pleasure too, to you, being, as you have often pointed out to me, the architect of your own fortunes, to have this convincing proof of their stability, and your success?"
"Success! my dear child! pride! pleasure! Ah, missy, a man must have lived but a small life, if towards the end of it, he looks for pride and pleasure in the amount of his balance at his bankers, or for his success in having heaped up more money than his fellows!"
"No! not in that entirely, of course! but in having carried out the main idea of his life and"
"The main idea of my life! that was in existence but a very little while, missy! The main idea of my life was to make my poor Bessy a good husband, and afterwards—when the boy was born—to leave him a good and honoured name. Both those hopes are extinguished now, Marian. The first went years ago, the last—you know when. And this," pointing with his pen to the bank book in front of him—"this has no power to fill their place."
Both were silent for some minutes, then Marian said, "You have shown me how silly I was to speak as I spoke just now."
"My child, you spoke as a child. As one who has never known—who, please God, never will know, the vanity of such resources as those in time of trouble."
"I spoke as one who has known sorrow, Mr. Creswell, but who also has known, and who never can too gratefully acknowledge, the kindness of friends who were willing and able to help her. I think, I am sure, it will be a source of satisfaction to you to remember that your position enabled you
