make those who were dependent on him comfortable, and, if possible, happy. Once a year he came up to London for a week, to see his lawyers, and get measured for a coat, and go to the dentist. These were the excuses which he gave, but it was fancied by some that his wig was the great moving cause. Sir Alured and Mr. Wharton were second cousins, and close friends. Sir Alured trusted his cousin altogether in all things, believing him to be the great legal luminary of Great Britain, and Mr. Wharton returned his cousin's affection, entertaining something akin to reverence for the man who was the head of his family. He dearly loved Sir Alured,--and loved Sir Alured's wife and two daughters. Nevertheless, the second week at Wharton Hall became always tedious to him, and the fourth, fifth, and sixth weeks frightful with ennui. Perhaps it was with some unconscious dread of this tedium that he made a sudden suggestion to Sir Alured in reference to Dresden. Sir Alured had come to him at his chambers, and the two old men were sitting together near the open window. Sir Alured delighted in the privilege of sitting there, which seemed to confer upon him something of an insight into the inner ways of London life beyond what he could get at his hotel or his wigmaker's. "Go to Dresden;--for the winter!" he exclaimed. "Not only for the winter. We should go at once." "Not before you come to Wharton!" said the amazed baronet. Mr. Wharton replied in a low, sad voice, "In that case we should not go down to Herefordshire at all." The baronet looked hurt as well as unhappy. "Yes, I know what you will say, and how kind you are." "It isn't kindness at all. You always come. It would be breaking up everything." "Everything has to be broken up sooner or later. One feels that as one grows older." "You and I, Abel, are just of an age. Why should you talk to me like this? You are strong enough, whatever I am. Why shouldn't you come? Dresden! I never heard of such a thing. I suppose it's some nonsense of Emily's." Then Mr. Wharton told his whole story. "Nonsense of Emily's!" he began. "Yes, it is nonsense,--worse than you think. But she doesn't want to go abroad." The father's plaint needn't be repeated to the reader as it was told to the baronet. Though it was necessary that he should explain himself, yet he tried to be reticent. Sir Alured listened in silence. He loved his cousin Emily, and, knowing that she would be rich, knowing her advantages of birth, and recognizing her beauty, had expected that she would make a match creditable to the Wharton family. But a Portuguese Jew! A man who had never been even known to allude to his own father! For by degrees Mr. Wharton had been driven to confess all the sins of the lover, though he had endeavoured to conceal the extent of his daughter's love. "Do you mean that Emily--favours him?" "I am afraid so."