"Do you remember, Emmeline, a Mr. Morton, who officiated for Mr. Howard at Aveling, five or six weeks ago?" asked Mr. Hamilton of his wife, on the Saturday morning after Herbert's mysterious excursion. The family had not yet left the breakfast-table. "Perfectly well," was the reply; "poor young man! his appearance and painful weakness of voice called for commiseration too deeply not to be remembered." "Is he not deformed?" inquired Miss Harcourt; "there was something particularly painful about his manner as he stood in the pulpit." "He is slightly deformed now; but not five years ago he had a graceful, almost elegant figure, though always apparently too delicate for the fatiguing mental duties in which he indulged. He was of good family, but his parents were suddenly much reduced, and compelled to undergo many privations to enable him to go to Oxford. There he allowed himself neither relaxation nor pleasure of the most trifling and most harmless kind; his only wish seemed to be to repay his parents in some degree the heavy debt of gratitude which he felt he owed them. His persevering study, great talent, and remarkable conduct, won him some valuable friends, one of whom, as soon as he was ordained, presented him with a rich living in the North. For nine months he enjoyed the most unalloyed happiness. His pretty vicarage presented a happy, comfortable home for his parents, and the comforts they now enjoyed, earned by the worth of their son, amply repaid them for former privations.--One cold snowy night he was summoned to a poor parishioner, living about ten miles distant. The road was rugged, and in some parts dangerous; but he was not a man to shrink from his duty for such reasons. He was detained eight hours, during which time the snow had fallen incessantly, and it was pitchy dark. Still believing he knew his road, he proceeded, and the next morning was found lying apparently dead at the foot of a precipice, and almost crushed under the mangled and distorted carcass of his horse." An exclamation of horror burst from all the little group, except from Percy and Herbert; the face of the former was covered with his hands, and his brother seemed so watching and feeling for him, as to be unable to join the general sympathy. All, however, were so engrossed with Mr. Hamilton's tale, that neither was observed.