"Does Mr. Hartley live here?" inquired Charles of the young maid-servant, when he had found the house. "In the parlour," replied the girl, pointing to a room on her left. Without further ceremony, she went away, leaving him to introduce himself. A voice, that he supposed was Peter's, bade him "come in," in answer to his knock. But he could not see Peter. A young fellow was stretched on the sofa in front of the fire. Charles rightly judged him to be the brother, Frederick Hartley. Young men are not, as a rule, very observant of one another, but Charles was struck with the appearance of the one before him. He was extremely good-looking; with fair hair, all in disorder, that shone like threads of gold in the firelight, glistening blue eyes, and a hectic flush on his thin cheeks. "I beg your pardon," said Charley, as the invalid--for such he evidently was--half rose and gazed at him. "I came to see Peter." "Oh yes; sit down," was the answer, given in cordial but very weak tones. "I expect him in every minute." "You are Fred," observed Charles. "I dare say he told you about meeting me on Tuesday: Charles Raynor." "Yes, he did. Do sit down. You don't mind my lying here?" "Is it a cold you have taken?" asked Charles, bringing a chair to the corner of the hearth. "I suppose so. A fresh cold. You might have heard me breathing yesterday over the way. The doctor kept me in bed. He wanted to keep me there to-day also; but to have to lie in that back-room is so wretchedly dull. Poke up the fire, will you, please, and make a blaze." With every word he spoke, his breath seemed laboured. His voice was hollow. Now he had a fit of coughing; and the cough sounded as hollow as the voice had done. Peter came in, welcomed Charles boisterously, and rang for tea. That, you may be sure, was acceptable to poor Charles. Fred, saying he was glad Charles had obtained the place at Prestleigh's, plunged into a few revelations touching the office politics, as well as his frequent cough and his imperfect breathing allowed, with a view of putting him au courant of affairs in general in his new position. "I shall make things pleasant for you, after I get back," said he. "We articled fellows hold ourselves somewhat aloof from the working clerks; but I shall let them know who you are, and that it is only a temporary move on your part." Fred Hartley, warm-hearted as his brother, said this when Charles was bidding him good-evening. That last look, taken when the invalid's face was raised, and the lamp shone full upon it, impressed Charles more than all. Peter went with him to the door. "What does the doctor say about your brother?" asked Charles, as they stood on the pavement, in the cold. "Says he must take care of himself." "Don't you think he looks very ill?" "I don't know," replied Peter, who had been in the habit of seeing his brother daily; and therefore had not been particularly impressed by his looks. "Does he?"