“No, no,” cried Kellett, “he was all safe.” “Isn't it a queer thing? but I'd like to hear of him! There was some Conway s connections of my mother's, and I can't get it out of my head but he might be one of them. It's not a common name, like Driscoll.” “Well, Jack will, maybe, be able to tell you about him,” said Kellett, still under the spell of Bella's caution. “If you would tell me on what points you want to be informed,” said Bella, “I shall be writing to my brother in a day or two. Are there any distinct questions you wish to be answered?” The calm but searching glance that accompanied these few words gradually gave way to an expression of pity as Bella gazed at the hopeless imbecility of poor Driscoll's face, wherein not a gleam of intelligence now lingered. It was as if the little struggle of intellect had so exhausted him that he was incapable of any further effort of reason. And there he sat, waiting till the returning tide of thought should flow back upon his stranded intelligence. “Would you like him to be questioned about the family?” said she, looking good-naturedly at him. “Yes, miss,--yes,” said he, half dreamily; “that is, I would n't like my own name, poor crayture as I am, to be mentioned; but if you could anyways find out if he was one of the Conway s of Abergedley,--they were my mother's people,--if you could find out that for me, it would be a great comfort.” “I'll charge myself with the commission,” said Bella, writing down the words “Conway of Abergedley.” “Now there was something else, if my poor head could only remember it,” said Driscoll, whose countenance displayed the most complete picture of a puzzled intelligence. “Mix yourself another tumbler, and you'll think of it by and by,” said Kellett, courteously. “Yes,” muttered Driscoll, accepting the suggestion at once. “It was something about mustard-seed, I think,” added he, after a pause; “they say it will keep fresh for two years if you put it in a blue-paper bag,--deep blue is best” A look of sincere compassion passed between Kellett and his daughter, and Driscoll went on, “I don't think it was that, though, I wanted to remember.” And he fell into deep reflection for several minutes, at the end of which he started abruptly up, finished off his glass, and began to button up his coat in preparation for the road. “Don't go till I see what the night looks like,” cried Kellett, as he left the room to examine the state of the weather. “If I should be fortunate enough to obtain any information, how shall I communicate with you?” asked Bella, addressing him hastily, as if to profit by the moment of their being alone. Driscoll looked fixedly at her for a second or two, and gradually the expression of his face settled down into its habitual cast of unmeaning imbecility, while he merely muttered to himself, “No evidence; throw out the bills.” She repeated her question, and in a voice to show that she believed herself well understood.