"Is it your ship come in?" asked Katrine gaily: for he was wont to say he would do this or that when "his ship came home." "No, Katrine; not much chance of that. Let me see what he says." "'Dear Reste,--I enclose you my debt at last. The other side have come to their senses, and given in, and paid over to me instalment the first. Thank you, old friend; you are a good fellow never to have bothered me. Let me know your movements when you write back; I ask it particularly. Ever yours, W. A.' "Well, I never expected that," cried Mr. Reste, as he read the words aloud. "Money lent by you, Edgar?" asked Mr. Barbary. "Yes; three or four years ago. I had given it up as a bad job. Never thought he would gain his cause." "What cause? Who is he?" "Captain Amphlett, of the Artillery, and an old friend of mine. As to the cause, it was some injustice that his avaricious relatives involved him in, and he had no resource but to bring an action. I am glad he has gained it; he is an honest fellow, no match for them in cunning." Mr. Reste was counting the notes while he spoke; six of them for ten pounds each. Katrine happened to look at her father, and was startled at the expression of his face--at the grasping, covetous, _evil_ regard he had fixed upon the notes. She felt frightened, half sick, with some vague apprehension. Mr. Reste smoothed the notes out one by one, and laid them open on the breakfast cloth in a little stack. While doing this, he caught Mr. Barbary's covetous look. "You'd like such a windfall yourself," he said laughingly to his host. "I should. For _that_ a man might be tempted to smother his grandmother." Katrine instinctively shuddered, though the avowal was given in a half jesting tone. A prevision of evil seized her. CARAMEL COTTAGE II.--DISAPPEARANCE I October was setting in beautifully. Some people say it is the most lovely month in the year when the skies are blue and genial. Seated at the breakfast-table at Caramel Cottage that Tuesday morning, with the window thrown open to the warm, pleasant air, the small party of three might have enjoyed that air, but for being preoccupied with their own reflections. Edgar Reste was thinking of the bank-notes which the postman had just brought him in Captain Amphlett's letter; Katrine Barbary sat shrinking from the vague fear imparted to her by the curious avowal her father had made in language not too choice, as his covetous eyes rested on the money: "For that, a man might be tempted to smother his grandmother." While Mr. Barbary had started instantly up and flung the window higher, as if in the silence that followed the words, they had struck back upon himself unpleasantly, and he sought to divert attention from them. "A grand day for the outlying crops," he remarked, his lithe, slender form, his pale, perfect features showing out well in the light of the brilliant morning. "But most of the grain is in, I think. We shall have a charming walk to Church Leet, Edgar."