With a heavy heart the fruiterer took his place in the railway train that was about to start for Brighton. It was a bleak November day, and the dull prospect and the chill biting wind seemed quite in harmony with his feelings. When the Christian suffers, he can look to Heaven, and comfort himself with the thought that his portion is not here; but when the worldly man loses earthly joy, he is losing his all, his only treasure, he has nothing to hope for beyond! The only comfort to Goldie's mind in his distress was the prosperity of Aleck, his favourite son; and even in the midst of his sorrow for the two others, it was a proud feeling to the father that he was going for the first time to see him settled in a home of his own, a wealthy man, a distinguished man, one who could help to raise the whole family. Goldie took a conveyance from the station, he had never yet been to his son's house in Brighton, and, indeed, was a stranger to the whole place, as he had rarely quitted his shop in E—. As he stopped at the door of a comfortable-looking dwelling, a carriage containing a lady drove off; he had but a glimpse of her face in a fine bonnet, whose crape flowers and shining bugles seemed expressly designed to make mourning look as lively as possible; he knew her to be the wife of his son, and not a little proud the fruiterer felt to be able to call such a fine lady his daughter. Goldie's loud knock at the door was answered by a servant in livery. Even the painful errand upon which the father had come could not prevent his exulting in the idea of grandeur so new to him! He would have passed in at once, as into his own shop, but the footman stood in the doorway, eyeing him saucily from head to foot. "Is your master at home?" said Goldie, trying to push forwards into the hall. "Not at home," replied the man, half-closing the door. "Then I'll wait till he comes in. I must see him. Where has he gone?" "You can't see him; he sees no one, he's expecting his hairdresser." "His hairdresser!" exclaimed Goldie. "But I am his father!" And pushing the astonished footman aside, he entered the house, and was at once guided by the sound of a well-known whistled air to the room in which Aleck was seated. "Is that you, de la Rue? Why—how—can it be!" exclaimed the young man, rising in surprise on the sudden entrance of his father. He had not been him since the death of poor Ned, and scarcely knew in what manner to meet him. "You did not think to see me here," said Goldie, grasping his hand; "but I have come upon business, urgent business, Aleck. Sit down, my dear boy, I will let you know all. I could not rest till I had consulted with you." Aleck throw himself down again on his luxurious arm-chair, with an uncomfortable persuasion that something disagreeable was coming, us his father drew from the pocket of his coat a letter, which he knew to be in the handwriting of his brother. "That will tell its own tale," said Goldie, handing it with a sigh to his son.