“What is your name?” said the old gentleman, looking up from his paper. “Mark Dowley, sir,” answered the boy. “Mark Dowley! Ellen, have we not heard that name before?” “Oh yes; ’tis the name of the boy in whom dear Mr. Ewart was interested. Do you not remember his speaking about him?” “I remember it perfectly well, my dear; it is easy to imagine what became of the other contents of the bag.” “And where are you staying now?” said Ellen, with a look of interest; “I hope that you have a good situation.” “I had a good situation last night, but the fire that happened to-day burned down the house of my master, and now I am abroad in the world.” Ellen glided to her father, and whispered something in his ear. Mark’s heart beat very quickly, he scarcely knew why; but it was with a sensation of hope. After a few minutes of conversation which he could not hear, Mr. Searle—for that was the gentleman’s name—said aloud, “As you please, my dear; we certainly were looking out for such a boy. We could take him with us to Yorkshire; there could be no difficulty about that.” “Would you like,” said Ellen, bending her kind eyes upon Mark, “to become one of our household, to accompany us to Silvermere? Your work would be light, and your situation comfortable. We live scarcely two miles from Castle Fontonore.” With a rebound of joy all the greater from the depth of his late depression, Mark eagerly accepted the offer. Profiting, however, by the remembrance of past regrets, and desirous to be more faithful to his duty in future, he added that he must first obtain the consent of his mother. “You are quite right, my boy,” said Mr. Searle, kindly; “let nothing ever come between you and your duty to a parent. Her will, next to God’s, should be your law; you never can do too much for her.” “But it is not desirable to go till to-morrow,” said Ellen; “those heavy clouds have burst; only see how it rains! The poor boy looks quite knocked up already; he could occupy the little room here to-night.” This arrangement was finally concluded upon, and the weary but thankful boy again found a haven of rest. A comfortable meal was set before him, to which he was inclined to do full justice. He enjoyed deep untroubled sleep that night, and awoke in the morning refreshed and rejoicing. How the difficulties that he feared had melted away before him! How one painful effort made had brought its own rich reward! CHAPTER IX. THE ARMOUR AND THE BATTLE. “Then did Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back or to stand his ground.”—_Pilgrim’s Progress._