"Not many days since; and--and--" said Mr. Spencer, greatly affected, "I fear in want. I had been abroad for some months: on my return last week, looking over the newspapers (for I always order them to be filed), I read the short account of her lawsuit against Mr. Beaufort, some time back. I resolved to find her out. I did so through the solicitor she employed: it was too late; I arrived at her lodgings two days after her--her burial. I then determined to visit poor Catherine's brother, and learn if anything could be done for the children she had left behind." "She left but two. Philip, the elder, is very comfortably placed at R----; the younger has his home with me; and Mrs. Morton is a moth--that is to say, she takes great pains with him. Ehem! And my poor--poor sister!" "Is he like his mother?" "Very much, when she was young--poor dear Catherine!" "What age is he?" "About ten, perhaps; I don't know exactly; much younger than the other. And so she's dead!" "Mr. Morton, I am an old bachelor" (here a sickly smile crossed Mr. Spencer's face); "a small portion of my fortune is settled, it is true, on my relations; but the rest is mine, and I live within my income. The elder of these boys is probably old enough to begin to take care of himself. But, the younger--perhaps you have a family of your own, and can spare him!" Mr. Morton hesitated, and twitched up his trousers. "Why," said he, "this is very kind in you. I don't know--we'll see. The boy is out now; come and dine with us at two--pot-luck. Well, so she is no more! Heigho! Meanwhile, I'll talk it over with Mrs. M." "I will be with you," said Mr. Spencer, rising. "Ah!" sighed Mr. Morton, "if Catherine had but married you she would have been a happy woman." "I would have tried to make her so," said Mr. Spencer, as he turned away his face and took his departure.