At last he rose to go. "And now, Mrs. Miller," he said, "I'll come here at ten in the morning, and see to our patient. She'll be nicely by that time. And (listen to those brutes in the street!--twelve o'clock, too--ah! there's the bell), as I was saying, my offence to you being occasioned by your debt to me, I feel my receipt for your debt should commence my reparation to you; and I'll bring it to-morrow. Mrs. Miller, you don't quite come at me--what I mean is--you owe me, under a notice to quit, three months' rent. Consider that paid in full. I never will take a cent of it from you,--not a copper. And I take back the notice. Stay in my house as long as you like; the longer the better. But, up to this date, your rent's paid. There. I hope you'll have as happy a Christmas as circumstances will allow, and I mean you shall." A flush of astonishment, of indefinable emotion, overspread her face. "Dr. Renton, stop, sir!" He was moving to the door. "Please, sir, _do_ hear me! You are very good--but I can't allow you to--Dr. Renton, we are able to pay you the rent, and we _will_, and we _must_--here--now. O, sir, my gratefulness will never fail to you--but here--here--be fair with me, sir, and _do_ take it." She had hurried to a chest of drawers, and came back with the letter which she had rustled apart with eager, trembling hands, and now, unfolding the single banknote it had contained, she thrust it into his fingers as they closed. "Here, Mrs. Miller,"--she had drawn back with her arms locked on her bosom, and he stepped forward,--"no, no. This sha'n't be. Come, come, you must take it back. Good heavens!" He spoke low, but his eyes blazed in the red glow which broke out on his face, and the crisp note in his extended hand shook violently at her. "Sooner than take this money from you, I would perish in the street! What! Do you think I will rob you of the gift sent you by some one who had a human heart for the distresses I was aggravating? Sooner than-- Here, take it! O my God! what's this?" The red glow on his face went out, with this exclamation, in a pallor like marble, and he jerked back the note to his starting eyes. Globe Bank--Boston--Fifty Dollars. For a minute he gazed at the motionless bill in his hand. Then, with his hueless lips compressed, he seized the blank letter from his astonished tenant, and looked at it, turning it over and over. Grained letter-paper--gilt-edged--with a favorite perfume in it. Where's Mrs. Flanagan? Outside the door, sitting on the top of the stairs, with her apron over her head, crying. Mrs. Flanagan! Here! In she tumbled, her big feet kicking her skirts before her, and her eyes and face as red as a beet. "Mrs. Flanagan, what kind of a looking man gave you this letter at the door to-night?"