"Yes," said Tim, after a pause, "a week to-morrow since we buried her, ma'am, and I'm going to begin work again on Monday. You said that I ought to have been a woman, ma'am; so you won't be so very hard upon me for what you have seen to-night. I'm better now, for that was there and wanting to come; and," he said, piteously, "you're the only friends I have in the world, and I wanted to tell you all my trouble, but couldn't before to-night." No sooner had Tim left the house with Jared--heartsore himself, and glad of such companionship--to walk part of the way home with him, than Mrs Jared rushed up-stairs to kiss and cry over every one of her numerous progeny, as she satisfied herself that they were all safe. And sadly were the poor children disturbed by the process, for the light was cast upon their eyes, and Patty was consulted as to whether this one did not look pale, and that one flushed, which last was undoubtedly the case, for it had to be fished from beneath the bed-clothes, its unintelligibly mumbled words being taken for threatenings of delirium and fever. Mrs Jared descended at last, and Jared vowed that she got up six times that night to go into the various bedrooms--and she herself owned to three--while Jared lay telling himself he ought to make a confidant of his wife, and tell her all; but he shrank from the task, as he said, "Poor thing! no; she has enough to bear as it is." It was true, for Mrs Jared's trials were any thing but light, and she hid many a tear in her turn from Jared. But for all that, that night, after hours had passed, she had another to spare, as she thought of the dead child, and felt for it more than ever a strange yearning; while the tear that made wet her cheek was as much for it as for the sorrows of poor Tim Ruggles. Tears--tears! there were many shed that night; for in her own little room Patty too lay sleepless, thinking of Janet and her trouble--of the missing man, and of poor Pine as well; but somehow, in spite of her sadness, her thoughts would veer round to him who had first made her heart to beat, and that was Harry Clayton. Volume 2, Chapter XX. A BROKEN REED. Harry Clayton walked hastily back towards Lionel's chambers, his mind confused by what he had seen and heard. He was half pained, half pleased; at one moment he felt elate, and his heart swelled joyfully. He stopped once; should he go to Duplex Street? Then he would think of conflicting circumstances, and depression would ensue. Thoughts that he had believed to be crushed out were again asserting themselves; and so pre-occupied was he, that he did not see the peering curious face of D. Wragg, as it passed within a yard of his own, watchful as that of a terrier after a rat.