"Mr. Waters," said Mr. Smith with a good deal of sternness, as soon as we were alone, "I expect that no sentimental crotchet will prevent your doing your duty in this matter?" "What right," I answered with some heat, "have you, sir, to make such an insinuation?" "Because I perceived, by your manner, that you disapproved my questioning Mr. Lloyd as to the likeliest mode of securing his brother." "My manner but interpreted my thoughts: still, sir, I know what belongs to my duty, and shall perform it." "Enough: I have nothing more to say." I drew on my gloves, took up my hat, and was leaving the room, when Mr. Smith exclaimed, "Stay one moment, Mr Waters: you see that my great object is to break off the connection between my son and Miss Lloyd?" "I do." "I am not anxious, you will remember, to press the prosecution _if, by a frank written confession of his guilt_, Owen Lloyd places an insuperable bar between his child and mine. You understand?" "Perfectly. But permit me to observe, that the _duty_ you just now hinted I might hesitate to perform, will not permit me to be a party to any such transaction. Good-day." I waited on Mr. William Lloyd soon afterwards, and listened with painful interest to the brief history which he, with childlike simplicity, narrated of his own and brother's fortunes. It was a sad, oft-told tale. They had been early left orphans; and deprived of judicious guidance, had run--William more especially--a wild career of dissipation, till _all_ was gone. Just before the crash came, they had both fallen in love with the same woman, Caroline Heyworth, who had preferred the meeker, more gentle-hearted Owen, to his elder brother. They parted in anger. William obtained a situation as bailiff and overseer of an estate in Jamaica, where, by many years of toil, good fortune, and economy, he at length ruined his health and restored his fortunes; and was now returned to die rich in his native country; and, as he had till an hour before feared, unlamented and untended save by hirelings. I promised to write immediately I had seen his brother; and with a sorrowful heart took leave of the vainly-rejoicing, prematurely-aged man.