"Mr Vine," said Madelaine piteously, as she stood with extended hands asking sympathy in her grievous trouble. "My child!" he cried, as he caught her to his breast, and she clung there sobbing bitterly. Then he softly disengaged her hands from his neck. "No, no," he said dreamily, "I am guilty too; I must never take you to my heart again." "What have I done?" sobbed Madelaine, as she clung to him still. "You?" he said fondly. "Ah! it was once my dream that you would be more and more my child. Little Madelaine!" He drew her to his breast again, kissed her with spasmodic eagerness, and then held out a hand to Louise, who flew to his breast as with an angry, malicious look, Aunt Marguerite advanced to the end of the landing and looked down at the sobbing group. "Good-bye!" whispered the stricken man hoarsely, "good-bye, my child. I am weak and helpless. I hardly know what I say; but you must come here no more. Good-bye." He turned from them hastily, and glided back into the darkened room, where Louise followed him, as Madelaine went slowly down toward the town. Vine was seated before the empty grate, his head resting on his hand, as Louise went to his side, and he started as if from a dream when she touched his shoulder. "You, my child?" he said, sinking back. "Ah! stay with me--pray with me. It is so hard to bear alone." Volume 2, Chapter XVI. THE OLD WATCH-DOG. The silence as if of death reigned for days and days at Van Heldre's house, which, unasked, old Crampton had made his residence. In a quiet furtive way he had taken possession of the inner office, to which he had brought from his own house a sofa-cushion and pillow, carrying them there one dark night unseen, and at times, no doubt, he must have lain down and slept; but to all there it was a mystery when he did take his rest. If Mrs Van Heldre called him to partake of a meal he came. If he was forgotten he ate one of a store of captain's biscuits which he kept in his desk along with his very strong tobacco, which flavoured the said biscuits in a way that, being a regular smoker, he did not notice, while at ten o'clock he regularly went out into the yard to have his pipe. He was always ready to sit up and watch, but, to his great annoyance, he had few opportunities, the task being shared between Madelaine and her mother. As to the business of the office, that went on as usual as far as the regular routine was concerned, everything fresh being put back till the principal resumed his place at his desk. Bills of lading, the smelting-house accounts, bank deposits, and the rest, all were attended to, just as if Van Heldre had been there instead of lying above between life and death. From time to time Mrs Van Heldre came down to him to beg that he would ask for everything he wanted. "I cannot help neglecting you, Mr Crampton," she said, with her hands playing about the buttons of her dress.