"Do you not know me?" said the man; "more strange that I should recognise you! Dear, dear, and what a dress!--how you are altered! Poor thing!" At the words "poor thing" Arabella burst into tears; and in those tears the heavy cloud on her brain seemed to melt away. "I have been inquiring, seeking for you everywhere, Miss," resumed the man. "Surely, you know me now! Your poor aunt's lawyer! She is no more--died last week. She has left you all she had in the world; and a very pretty income it is, too, for a single lady." Thus it was that we find Arabella installed in the dreary comforts of Podden Place. "She exchanged," she said, "in honour to her aunt's memory, her own name for that of Crane, which her aunt had borne--her own mother's maiden name." She assumed, though still so young, that title of "Mrs." which spinsters, grown venerable, moodily adopt when they desire all mankind to know that henceforth they relinquish the vanities of tender misses--that, become mistress of themselves, they defy and spit upon our worthless sex, which, whatever its repentance, is warned that it repents in vain. Most of her aunt's property was in houses, in various districts of Bloombury. Arabella moved from one to the other of these tenements, till she settled for good into the dullest of all. To make it duller yet, by contrast with the past, the Golgotha for once gave up its buried treasures--broken lute, birdless cage! Somewhere about two years after Matilda's death, Arabella happened to be in the office of the agent who collected her house-rents, when a well- dressed man entered, and, leaning over the counter, said: "There is an advertisement in to-day's Times about a lady who offers a home, education, and so forth, to any little motherless girl; terms moderate, as said lady loves children for their own sake. Advertiser refers to your office for particulars--give them!" The agent turned to his books; and Arabella turned towards the inquirer. "For whose child do you want a home, Jasper Losely?" Jasper started. "Arabella! Best of creatures! And can you deign to speak to such a vil---" "Hush--let us walk. Never mind the advertisement of a stranger. I may find a home for a motherless child--a home that will cost you nothing." She drew him into the street. "But can this be the child of--of--Matilda Darrell?"-- "Bella!" replied, in coaxing accents, that most execrable of lady- killers, "can I trust you?--can you be my friend in spite of my having been such a very sad dog? But money--what can one do without money in this world? 'Had I a heart for falsehood framed, it would ne'er have injured you'--if I had not been so cursedly hard up! And indeed, now, if you would but condescend to forgive and forget, perhaps some day or other we may be Darby and Joan--only, you see, just at this moment I am really not worthy of such a Joan. You know, of course, that I am a widower--not inconsolable."