Another thing had wrought somewhat upon Sir William’s mind with regard to Percy Maitland. When he had become acquainted with him, the first thought that came to him thereafter found vent in these words, spoken aloud, to himself: “Oh, what would I give if Matthew could be like that boy! What a blessing he might be to his father! What a blessing to us all!” He knew that during the summer Cordelia had become not only acquainted, but intimate with the smuggler’s son. One day the little pet had surprised her father by asking him a question in very good French. “For mercy’s sake! where did you learn that?” he had asked her. “Ho! Percy taught me; and he is going to teach me to read French. Won’t it be nice?” And the baronet had suffered it to go on. It was enough for him that his child was the happier for this friendship; and, further, that under its influence she was really improving. She was learning rapidly. Of danger in the future he never thought. As the day drew towards its close Sir William found himself alone with the earl. The legal steps necessary towards constituting the latter guardian of the child, with full authority, had all been taken, and it only remained for him to give such instructions as he had to give. The papers had been filled out, signed, sealed and witnessed some time before, and the earl had them in his possession, ready to act when the time should come. “Lord Allerdale,” said the baronet, when all preliminary matters had been disposed of. “I shall not see the light of another day. You know that.” “I suppose,” replied the earl, with a faint, fleeting smile, “if I would be in the fashion I ought to declare that I do not know any such thing; but alas! I know it but too well. Still, I will give you more time than that. You shall not leave us to-night, nor yet to-morrow. No, no--we must keep you for days to come, if not for weeks.” “Well, well,” rejoined the invalid, quickly, “be sure I will live if I can; but we will be on the safe side. The few directions I have to give you I will give you now, and then the end may come when it will. It will find us prepared.” “You are right in that, William. What you have to say to me I would have you say at once. And I am anxious to know your wishes. Remember, you have given your child into my care and keeping; and, though you have confidence in my judgment, yet I would have from you certain directions for my guidance.” “I have confidence in your judgment, my lord,” said the baronet, with a warm light in his failing eyes, “but it is in your great love--in the goodness of your heart--that I most hopefully trust, for I know you will love my darling when I am gone. I know it.” “Love her!” repeated the old man, the tones seeming to come from the profoundest depths of his heart, “I shall love her now--as a bright angel, given to bless and brighten and beautify the evening of my life! Oh! I have no words that can tell my love for the little seraph.”