"I have just," said the young lady, producing her purse, and opening it, "three shillings and sixpence to live upon." Now, although this was a serious declaration, the young lady, when she made it, spoke almost merrily. Her lips no longer trembled, her eyes were bright again. These sudden changes of humour, from sorrow to gaiety, from pensiveness to light-heartedness, are not her least charming attributes. Small wonder that Mr. Holdfast was captivated by them and by her beauty! "What a child you are!" he exclaimed. "Three shillings and sixpence is not sufficient to keep you for half a day." "Is it not?" asked the young lady, with delightful simplicity. "What a pity it is that we cannot live like fairies." "My dear young lady," remarked Mr. Holdfast, taking her hand in his, "you sadly need a protector. Have you really any objection to letting me hear the story of these bonds?" She related it to him without hesitation. It was simple enough. Some years ago, being already motherless, her father died, and left her in the care of his sister, a married woman with a family. The orphan girl had a guardian who, singular to say, she never saw. He lived in London, she in the country. The guardian, she understood from her father's last words, held in trust for her a sum of money, represented by bonds, which she would receive when she became twenty-one years of age. In the meantime she was to live with her aunt, who was to be paid from the money due from time to time for interest on the bonds. The payment for her board and lodging was forwarded regularly by the young lady's guardian, and she looked forward impatiently to the time when she would become her own mistress. She was unhappy in the house of her aunt, who treated her more like a dependent than a relative and a lady. "I think," said Mrs. Holdfast to our Reporter, "that she was disappointed the money had not been left to her instead of me, and that she would have been glad if I had died, so that she might obtain possession of it as next of kin. It would not have benefited her, the bonds being of no value, for it was hardly likely she would have met with such a friend as Mr. Holdfast proved to me--the best, the most generous of men! And I have lost him! I have lost him!" Bursts of grief such as this were frequent during the interview, which we are throwing into the form of a narrative, with no more licence, we hope, than we are entitled to use. The story went on to its natural end. The young lady's position in the house to which her father confided her became almost unendurable, but she was compelled to suffer in silence. A small allowance for pocket money was sent to her by her guardian, and the best part of this she saved to defray the expenses to London and to enable her to live for a while; for she was resolved to leave her aunt on the very day she reached the age of twenty-one. "Do I look older?" she asked of our Reporter.