know to the contrary, is now on the way to America or Australia.” "Goodness me, what a wretch!" "Oh!" continued Pierce, "if he had never injured anybody in the world but me, I might have forgiven him; but there are others living, or rather dying, who have suffered more than I have from his villainous treachery." "In what way have they suffered ?" asked Mary. "Why, in all sorts of ways. There is one poor creature who has twice written to meand I am worse than a savage for not having gone to her to say she is dying, partly through his treatment of her, and partly from sheer starvation. If any one in the world ought to have cared for her, he ought." "I never heard of such a wretch! I am sure I hope you will never see him again." "I hope not, with all my heart; though, if I knew where he was at this moment, I think I might be inclined to pay him a visit, if it was only to save him the trouble of spending my £12,000." 66 And have you no clue to his steps?" asked Mary. "Such a wicked wretch ought not to escape. He will serve somebody else as he has served you." "To be sure he will if he has a chance, and he certainly may for all I can do to stop him. However, I should not be surprised to hear that he had ended his days on the gallows." "And what has become of his poor wife, whom you say he has starved to death ?” "His wife !" exclaimed Pierce, "she will die, I suppose, unless I get back to see her in time to procure some good medical advice. I ought to have been in London a week ago my illness had not kept me tied down here." if "It was unfortunate, certainly," said Mary, rather sadly. "No, I won't say that, at least as far as I am concerned, it was well worth being ill for the luxury of having so kind a nurse. If I had been moping all that time in London without a soul caring a sixpence whether I lived or died, I probably should have died out of pure vexation of spirit; instead of which I have spent a most delightful ten days, at a time when, with the loss of my fortune and some other disagreeable accidents I most particularly needed such cheerful society as yours. No," said Pierce, affectionately taking her hand; "it's not every day of one's life that scatterlings like myself are refreshed with the sight of such kind-hearted creatures as Miss Bellerby. Believe me the combination of true benevolence, with a disposition bold enough to exercise it, is not so common an occurrence as to be forgotten directly it is met with. I shall leave this to-morrow or the next day, probably, as I said before, not to pay you another visit for a I very long time to come; but do not suppose that in any interval of time I shall forget either Mossbank or its inhabitants. remember somebody says 'mankind are always happier for having been happy;' if this be true, and I believe it is partly so, it must be a pleasure to me whenever I remember this bright little fortnight breaking into one of the gloomiest periods of my lifetime. But now I think you must be tired. I see your father has been labouring in the most painful way to keep his eyes open for the last three quarters of an hour, so I will release you from the confessor's box, where you have been locked in, to listen to my egotistical yarns, till you must be quite out of patience with me." Mary rose to wish her father good-night. She made no answer to Pierce's last speech, and if the truth be told she did not at all like his saying she must be tired with listening to his "egotistical yarns;" for it was not VOL. II. true; and he might have known, if he had had any penetration at all, that she took very great interest in everything he told her about himself; she thought besides that it did him a great deal of good to unburden his mind to her, only he was so foolish he couldn't the least see anything. It was quite provoking! Some time after Mary went to bed she puzzled and puzzled to think what "other disagreeable accidents" he could have alluded to as making that particular time "the most gloomy period of his life." He seemed to talk of the treachery of his friend with perfect calmness; it was not this that made him so melancholy. She could not conceive what it could be, unless-and that, of course, must be the reason he had been crossed in love! Poor fellow! He spoke too of living obscurely and plodding away for his bread, and living entirely out of society. It was a very romantic case, indeed. In fact there was a |