in the exuberance of her joy. "All I axes is, tell me what his looks is like, and every blessed word he give mouth speech to."

"He spoke up as cheerful as ever," said one of the men, "didn't he, Tom?" To which Tom assented, while Ned Briggs, who, from having brought him in the Fanny, felt he was in a position to speak authoritatively, added

"And from what I seed I don't believe not a half o' what I've heerd."

"How do 'ee mean, mate?" asked the others.

"Why, this, the talk to Dockmouth's bin that 'tain't only the givin' up, but he's got to do the payin' back o' all that he's a spent."

"Tine a by!" exclaimed Mother Tapson contemptuously. "Why, how can they take from un what he arn't a got; whether 'tis hisn or theirn, folks must ate and drink, and ha' garments to their backs."

"Iss, that's true," replied Ned, slowly draining the measure which was being handed round. Then setting it down with an unctuous smack of his lips, he ran his mouth slowly along his jacket sleeve, adding, with a sly look round, "There may be punchin' o' heads, mates, but there's no rippin o'-" and the conclusion of his sentence was conveyed by the pantomimic movement in which he indulged.

CHAPTER XVII.

"Was't not to this end

That thou begann'st to twist so fine a story?

Much Ado about Nothing.

And in another moment the mother's arms were round her son's neck, while her pale, trembling lips tried to shape words of sorrow and self-reproach-words to which her son refused to listen. Bidding her hush them, he told her it was she who had taught him how to bear reverses and to endure disappointments. Then stretching out his hand towards Katherine, who at a little distance stood

watching them, he drew her to them, saying that he had yet much to love and live for.

"Ah, Stephen! I can never, never, tell you all Katherine has been to me," exclaimed Mrs. Prescott, her tears gushing forth afresh,

"If it had not been for her,

what should I have done, what would have become of me?"

"My dear mother, what would have become of either of us?" Stephen answered, filled with fears at his mother's anguish. "Come," he added cheerfully, "let us try at least for the present to put away this unfortunate subject. You will make the effort for my sake, I know. I have been terribly tried during the few past weeks, and coming home is the first gleam of anything approaching to sunshine."

This appeal was the surest inducement to self-control, and it was not long before Mrs.

Prescott was calm enough to listen with apparent interest to the details of her son's movements during his absence-whom he had seen, the various people who had called upon him, and the several proofs of kindness he had received.

"And one instance more particularly," he said, "for the offer came from a man who was a comparative stranger to me, Lord Fareham," and he turned to Katherine, "who has just been appointed to Vienna, came and asked if I thought there was anything which he could obtain for me. It was not only the thing itself, but the way in which it was done. I had no idea that he was such a nice fellow."

"I have always liked Lord Fareham," Katherine said quietly, while if a little sigh which rose to Mrs. Prescott's lips had spoken, it would have said, "Farewell to hopes and fears, alike past and gone."