“Hang your papa!” exclaimed Paul; “tell me what all this means.” “How dare you, thir,” said Mrs. Dibble, starting up; “how dare you hang my papa! Ah, I forgot, of courthe poverty mutht be insulted, and I am a wretched dependent, though I have had a boarding-school education, and been brought up to----” “Confound it, Mrs. Dibble: will you talk common sense for a moment. I don’t wish to insult you, nor to be unkind in any way. Will you tell me how it is that this lady has left your house?” “Here is a note,” said Mr. Dibble, timidly taking a small _billet_ from the mantel-piece. Mrs. Dibble scowled at her husband, and began to weep afresh over her fallen fortunes. Paul hastily opened the note, which Dibble gave to him, and read as follows:-- “MY DEAR PAUL,--I have saved you from a great sin and from terrible misery. This wretched girl is my daughter. I have taken her away; do not seek to follow us. You shall know _all_ in the course of a day or two. ‘He visits the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate him, and shows mercy unto thousands in them that love Him and keep His commandments.’ “Believe me to be ever yours in truth and affection, “A. Williamson.” Paul read the note twice and in the greatest astonishment. His mind was in a chaos of wonder and amazement. He sat down upon a chair, and read the strange words over and over again, until Dibble interrupted him. “It was all true, sir,” said Dibble, “what I said yesterday; she was the show-girl, Chrissy, who conjured, you know, sir, at Severntown.” Paul made no reply. Mrs. Dibble only nodded her head to signify that she had had a boarding-school education, and had been brought to this wretched plight, nevertheless. “She be main clever, surely,” said Dibble, “and improved wonderful.” “When did she leave here?” asked Paul, looking to Mrs. Dibble for a reply. “Before daylight, by the mail,” she said; “and what with packing and Mr. Williamson’s fidgeting and going on, and his wild ways, I hope I shall never see such a night again.” “They left together,” said Paul, staring vacantly at the barrister’s note. “Yeth, and Dibble fetched the cab.” “Did she seem willing to go; did she leave any message for me?” “Nothing,” said Mrs. Dibble. “She wath willing enough to go; but anybody would have been willing to do whatever he thaid, he theemed to order about so.” “Order! in what way?” asked the Lieutenant. “Why, ath if he were her father, which he thaid he wath, though that wath never to be repeated to anybody but you, and he went home and brought some money, and wath motht liberal for all we had done, though I thertainly would have returned it if Mithter Dibble had not lotht money in the panic, and that bank had not broke, which left uth almost in poverty.”