“Poor creature! poor dear love!” said Mrs. Dibble; “she’th had a thad life for one so young though we all have our troublth. I’m thure if my pa could rithe and thee me, it would break hith heart, that it would, to think that after having a boarding-thchool education, and being brought up with accomplishmenth at my fingerth ends, that I thould have to let my huthband go out to thervice in hith old age, and live on the bounty of him and Mithter Thomerton.” The bare contemplation of her lot set Mrs. Dibble weeping copious tears. “In service? Why I thought Thomas had come back to live with you, and that you were going on quite comfortably again?” said the barrister. “Tho he did, tho he did,” said Mrs. Dibble, wiping her eyes; “but it wath only to bring fresh troublth. We were perthecuted by a showman--a dreadful, drunken perthon--and then we had to move, and what ith worth, thith panic, or whatever it ith, in the Thity, hath been our ruin; the bank in which our all wath depothited broke, and left uth without tho much ath five poundth in the world. If Mithter Thomerton had not helped uth--God bleth him for it!--we thould have been in the workhouth, and one of the gentlemen at the bank who had known thomething of Dibble, he offered him a place as his butler, and I came to live in thith little houthe, having thold motht of my other furniture: and loath I wath to part with that piano which poor pa bought me when I came home from boarding-thchool; and Dibble he hath a good place, and he comth home thometimeth, though what I thall do when the family goth for two month to Brazencrook, I don’t know; but the Lord have merthy on uth! My poor pa! my poor pa!” The contemplation of what her poor pa would think of her forlorn condition was too much for Mrs. Dibble, and she lapsed into silent tears, whilst Mr. Williamson bade her be of good cheer and asked her to accept a guinea for “auld lang syne.” Meanwhile the Lieutenant came down-stairs, looking more hopeful than he had done previously. He certainly thought the poor girl was better. “Poor dear!” said Mrs. Dibble again; “tho young too, tho young!” Paul shook hands with Mrs. Dibble, as he left the house, and then he and his friend walked arm and arm out into the night, each occupied with his own thoughts. CHAPTER XVIII. A PICTURE FOR ASMODEO’S CLOAK.