Mistress Haylark had watched every movement of her daughter, and began to imagine that her many lectures regarding discountenancing Charley Warbeck’s addresses were beginning to have their anticipated effect. She congratulated herself that no child of hers would be foolish enough to look so lowly as to encourage a person of suspected character. She often said she would not have stayed a day in Dame Worthington’s house, if public opinion had not considered there were many extenuating circumstances in Charley’s guilt. The true cause of Charley’s altered manner could easily be explained. He was looked upon as a dangerous person, and one that should not be trusted. Former friends and acquaintances passed him in the streets without the slightest indication of recognition. He had applied for business engagements in various places. But his name was more than enough to thwart his prospects. When he informed gentlemen that his last occupation had been as clerk in the India House they put him off with specious promises, but never employed him. He sometimes felt upon the verge of distraction, and more than once meditated self-destruction. But some good angel stood by his side in the moment of temptation and bade him hope. As often as he saw “little curly-head,” as he called Clara, flitting through the house, his heart smote him, and he gazed upon her averted face with fondness and sadness. And then the angel by his side whispered hope more loudly than ever. “I could not think of dragging her into my disgrace,” thought Charley, sentimentally; “it is enough that my name is stained without causing her a life of live-long distrust, poverty and reproach. “No, I will not address her. I love her, but she can never be my wife.” Mr. Charley Warbeck’s high-toned ideas of life-long self-sacrifice were very commendable and heroic. But changes came o’er the spirit of his dream. “What makes her maintain such provoking privacy, I wonder?” thought he. “How altered she is of late; how sad-looking and pale! I wonder if Fumbleton has anything to do with it? “He’s a nice-looking fellow enough, well-to-do, and all that; but I wish he was at the bottom of the sea, and out of the way. “I hate that fellow. “I saw him a few evenings since; if I meet him again I’ll have a little private chat with him, and _sound_ him! “I shouldn’t wonder, though, if he _is_ after her. “I see her go out frequently in the afternoon for a walk; I would lay a wager that she meets him!” This latter thought stung Charley to the quick, and he sighed very deeply. As he entered the parlour one bright afternoon, he discovered Clara sitting in the shadows of the window-curtains. She held something in her hand, and kissed it! The heart of Charley Warbeck beat very quickly. She was apparently absorbed in thought, and knew nothing of his presence in the apartment. He noiselessly approached nearer to her, and observed that she had a note in her lap, and frequently glanced at it.