He shook hands with her long and heartily, adding, "You will remember your trust--you will break the news to him like a daughter?" "I'll do my best, sir." "He knows that I cannot send him any letters." "And, and--letters for you?" She thought of the letter which Harriet Wesden, in her sleepless bed, might be pondering upon then. Of the new trouble which he seemed to guess not; for immediately afterwards he said-- "Keep the letters till I come back--and give my love to Harriet; tell her I shall think of her every hour of the day and night. I wrote to her the last thing this evening. Now, good-bye, old girl, and wish me luck." "The best of luck, Mr. Sidney--with all my heart!" "Luck in the distance--luck when I come back again, and see it shining in my Harriet's eyes. Ah! _it won't do!_" he added, with a stamp of his foot. "I'll pray for it sir," cried Mattie; "we can't tell what may happen for the best, or what _is_ for the best, however it may trouble us at first." "Spoken like the parson at the corner shop," he said, a little irreverently. "Bravo, Mattie--honest believer!" He passed from the shop into his cab, glancing at the up-stairs windows, and waving his hand for a moment towards his father, waiting anxiously there to see the last of him. The cab rattled away the moment afterwards, and Sidney Hinchford was borne on his unknown journey. * * * * * On the evening of the next day, a letter, in Harriet Wesden's hand-writing, was received. The postman and Mr. Hinchford, senior, came into the shop together. "Sidney Hinchford, Esq.," said the postman. "Thank you--I'll post it to him when he sends me his address," said Mr. Hinchford. "By Jove!" looking at the superscription, "the ladies miss him already." Harriet Wesden had kept her promise, and found courage to write her story out. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.