I see them sitting in that room while the bright morning sunshine pours upon the window and floods the floor with its radiance; I hear the birds singing merrily in the garden, and the cosy chucking of the hens and the sound of the fresh sweet wind as it sweeps through the pear-trees and sends the red-edged leaves rustling to the ground. I see the child’s large deep eyes wandering from father to mother, from mother to father, with the small face busy with the unformed consciousness that struggles in it. I see the mother careworn and pale, but with the light of rapture on her face that discloses all its secret sweetness, watching, ever watching, with soft eyes shining with happy tears, the dear one whose arm is around her. I see Holdsworth with the patches of gray upon his hair, his sunken cheeks and bowed figure symbolising while his life shall hold the unspeakable sufferings of mind and body he has known since we first beheld him. I see him, with the calmness of perfect joy mellowing his eyes, and enriching his face with a colour that owes its lustre to the spirit, so that it shall be there in darkness and in sunshine, holding his wife to his heart, often pressing his lips to his child, often glancing upwards with looks of ineffable gratitude; and I think of those two lines which Goldsmith says are worth a million: “_I have been young, and now am old: yet never saw I the righteous man forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread._” * * * * * A knock falls upon the door; the door is opened, and enter Mrs. Parrot. Does she start dramatically? I promise you there is more genuine astonishment conveyed by the little jump she gives, as she falls back a step and then stands staring, than in any movement designed to express wonderment you will see performed on the stage. So the mystery is solved, is it? So her lodger isn’t a gentleman after all, but an insidious man who, under pretence of liking Nelly’s company, has been paying attention to mamma! and now, with Conway’s body lying in the Town Hall, dead only a few hours, is actually caressing the widow in Mrs. Parrot’s respectable house! Holdsworth and Dolly exchange glances, and Dolly hangs her head with a look of confusion on her face (and well she may, thinks Mrs. Parrot) as Holdsworth puts Nelly down and rises. “I am really sorry to introod,” says Mrs. Parrot haughtily, “but my motive for knockin’, sir, was to inquire when you would like your breakfast sarved?” “We’ll talk of that in a moment,” answers Holdsworth. “I have something to say to you. This lady is my wife!” “I beg your parding,” says Mrs. Parrot, growing very pale. “My wife, Mrs. Parrot. You have heard of Mr. Holdsworth who went to sea and was drowned? He was not drowned. I am Mr. Holdsworth!” “You!” She tottered, ran forward, grasped the table, and shrieked, “You!” “Yes, Mrs. Parrot,” exclaimed Dolly, “this is John--my own darling husband, who I thought was dead.”