Dashing off into one of the most beautiful of the many variations of fine old pieces, she ran through several brilliant compositions, until at the close of "Auld Lang Syne," she accompanied it with her charming voice, in all the melting tenderness of former days. Roland was inexpressibly touched. "She has not quite forgotten those early days," thought the youth. * * * * * * * Edgar Thornly gave his father much uneasiness, for his indolence increased, his nightly dissipations became more reckless--moreover, he seemed gloomy and abstracted. One day, a gentleman called to pay Mr. Thornly a fee of two hundred dollars. He placed it in his desk, and put the key in his pocket. Roland and Edgar were both present. It was the duty of the former to lock the office every evening; but on this occasion Edgar tarried. "Is it not time to lock the office?" said Roland. "I suppose so," was the answer; but still he lingered. At last Roland said, "I have an engagement, Edgar, and must lock up." "Can't I do it, Roland?" "No, Edgar, your father directed me to see it locked always before I leave." "You are mighty particular, Roland;" and, taking his hat, Edgar left the room. Just before Roland closed the office finally, James, the waiter, entered the room to replenish the fire. "Be quick, James, I have an engagement." The man soon finished his work, and left the room. Roland locked the door, and took his departure, placing the key in his pocket. The next morning, Mr. Thornly wanted the money; on opening the desk, the lock was picked, and the money gone--who could have taken it? The waiter was called, and inquiries made of him. "The last one I saw there was Mr. Bruce," said the man; "nobody has been there since." Edgar testified the same. "I saw it just before I left the room," said Roland. "I saw you put the money in the drawer, Mr. Thornly; I was the last person in the office; I locked the door and put the key in my pocket; when I looked for the key this morning it was gone, and when I went down to the office, it was already open." "I was up first this morning," said the cook; "I was in the cellar under the office, I heard some one moving about in stocking feet; I thought it was very early, but I supposed it was Mr. Bruce, and did not go to see who was there." Roland _could have told_ that he saw one of Edgar's embroidered slippers close by the office door, and that when he entered, the gas was left burning, and a knife, which he had often seen Edgar use, lying under the table. Roland felt the perplexity of his situation; he knew that suspicion pointed towards him, but he could not clear himself without involving his employer's son. Just as he felt himself so happily, so usefully employed, it was a hard thing to be cast again upon the world, and under such circumstances.