His worldly circumstances, too, were declining. He neglected his shop altogether; he made no excursions, as of old, to Worms or Nuremberg for new toys. The young generation of purchasers found little they cared for in his antiquated stores, and, after laughing at the quaint old devices by which a past age were amused, they left him. It was in vain that Nelly tried to infuse some interest into the pursuit which once had been his passion. All the little histories he used to weave around his toys, the delusions of fancy in which he revelled, were dissipated and gone, and he seemed like one suddenly awakened from a delicious dream to the consciousness of some afflicting fact He strenuously avoided the Daltons, too, and even watched eagerly for moments of their absence to steal out and walk in the garden. When by chance they did meet, his manner, instead of its old cordiality, was cold and respectful; and he, whose eyes once sparkled with delight when spoken to, now stood uncovered, and with downcast looks, till they went by him. No wonder, then, if Dalton thought him changed. “'T is nothing but envy 's killing him, Nelly,” said he. “As long as we were poor like himself, he was happy. It gratified the creature's pride that we were behind with the rent; and while he was buying them images, he was a kind of a patron to you; but he can't bear to see us well off,----that's the secret of it all. 'Tis our prosperity is poison to him.” To no end did Nelly try to undeceive her father on this head. It was a corollary to his old theory about “the 'bad dhrop' that was always in low people.” In vain did she remind him of poor Hanserl's well-tried friendship, and the delicacy of a kindness that in no rank of life could have been surpassed. Dalton was rooted in his opinion, and opposition only rendered him more unforgiving. Quite forgetting the relations which once subsisted between them, he saw nothing in Hanserl's conduct but black ingratitude. “The little chap,” he would say, “was never out of the house; we treated him like one of the family, and look at him now! “You saw him yourself, Nelly,----you saw him shed tears the other day when you spoke of the Princess. Was that spite, or not,--tell me that? He could n't speak for anger when you told him Frank was an officer.” “Oh, how you mistake these signs of emotion, dearest father.” “Of course I do. I know nothing,--I 'm too old; I 'm in my dotage. 'Tis my daughter Nelly understands the world, and is able to teach me.” “Would that I knew even less of it! Would that I could fall back to the ignorance of those days when all our world was within these walls!” “And be cutting the images, I hope, again!” said he, scornfully; “why don't you wish for that? It was an elegant trade for a young lady of your name and family! Well, if there's anything drives me mad, it's to think that all them blasted figures is scattered about the world, and one does n't know at what minute they 'll turn up against you!”