'Does--does Alice know anything about that story?' 'Only so far as I am concerned. I told her of my early attachment to Emily Mitchell, and the story of how I lost her; but she has not the least idea of Emily's farther career beyond the fact that Bell is Emily's child.' 'True to the last, true as steel!' said Martin Gurwood, grasping his friend's hand. 'And now tell me of yourself; Martin,' said Humphrey Statham; 'what you are doing, what are your plans?' 'It is soon told,' said Martin Gurwood. 'I wrote you of my poor mother's death, and told you that she died without making any will. I am consequently her sole heir, and am a very rich man. The money is no good to me, Humphrey, but it will be a fine portion for little Bell, whom I have made my heiress under your guardianship.' 'Time enough to think of that, Martin. What do you intend to do now?' 'To work, old friend, according to my lights, in striving to better the condition of my fellow men. Yesterday I resigned the Vicarage of Lullington, and--' 'You don't mean to say you are going to become a missionary?' 'Not as you seem to suspect,' said Martin, with a smile, 'among savages and cannibals, but among those who perhaps need it not less, the lower classes of London. In striving to do them good, I purpose to spend my life and my income, and it will need but a very moderate amount of success to convince me that I have done rightly.' 'It is not for me to quarrel with the decision, Martin,' said Humphrey Statham; 'it is boldly conceived, and I know will be thoroughly carried out. And it will be moreover a satisfaction to me and to Alice to know that the scene of your labours is so close to us. When you want temporary rest and change, you will find your home here. You know that there is no one in the wide world whom it would give my wife and myself so much pleasure to welcome.' 'I know it,' said Martin, 'and have my greatest pleasure in knowing it. Now tell me, Humphrey, has anything ever been heard of Madame Du Tertre, of Pauline?' 'Nothing,' replied Humphrey Statham, shaking his head; 'as you know, she promised to write to us to tell us of her plans, but she has never done so, and that, I think, is the one grief of Alice's life. Pauline was so true a friend to my wife at a time when she most needed such a friend, that she was most desirous to hear of her again. But it seems as though that were not to be; her name is one of those which are "writ in water."'