"Believe me," exclaimed Richard Markham, who was ever sensibly alive to the existence of generous feelings in others,—"believe me," he cried, grasping Smithers' hand, "society lost a good man when you undertook your present avocation." "What, sir!" ejaculated Smithers, unfeignedly surprised; "do you shake hands with the Public Executioner?" "Yes—and unblushingly would I do so before the whole world," replied Markham, "when I discover at the bottom of his soul a spark—aye, even the faintest spark of noble and exalted feeling yet unquenched." The Public Executioner fixed upon the animated and handsome countenance of our hero a glance of the deepest gratitude—a glance of respect, almost of veneration! He then cast down his eyes, and appeared to plunge into profound rumination. "You were going to tell us, Miss Katherine," said Benstead, "what observation it was that prevented you from communicating to your uncle the notice Mrs. Kenrick had given you to leave." "Oh! I remember," exclaimed the young maiden, upon whose heart the noble conduct of Richard Markham towards her despised and degraded relative had made a deep impression: "my uncle said to me, '_I am almost sorry that I ever parted with you; but as you are now in a place that may do you good, I shall not interfere with you_.'" "Ah! my dear young friend," exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, "how fatal might that place have been to you after all? But where are you going to live now? If you can make yourself happy with me, I will offer you a home and show you the kindness of a mother." Katherine turned a look of deep gratitude upon the good woman who made her this generous offer; and then she glanced timidly towards her uncle and Richard Markham. "If I may be allowed to speak my thoughts in this matter," said our hero, "I should counsel Katherine to accept a proposition so kindly, so frankly made; and it shall be my duty to see that she becomes not a burden upon the friend who will provide her with a home." "I can give no opinion in the matter, sir," observed the executioner: "there is something about you which compels me to say, '_Deal with me and my family as you will_.' Command, sir, and we will obey." "I never command—but I advise as a friend," said Richard, touched by the strange gentleness of manner which was now evinced by one lately so rude, so brutal, so self-willed. "Katherine, then, has your consent to accompany Mrs. Bennet to Hounslow?" "And I sincerely thank Mrs. Bennet for her goodness towards that poor girl who has undergone so much," said the executioner. Mrs. Bennet now suggested that her husband would be uneasy if she remained long absent from home; and Richard immediately summoned the waiter, to whom he gave orders to procure a post-chaise. This command was speedily executed. Katherine took leave of her relatives, Markham, and Benstead, with streaming eyes. "God bless you, my girl," said the executioner, in a tone the tremulousness of which he could not altogether subdue.