"Yes, thank Heaven!"

"And I too, and Roland, and little Blanche! Why, then, you are right to
thank Heaven, for your true treasures are untouched. But sit down and
explain, pray."

"I cannot explain. I do not understand anything more than that he, my
brother--mine!--has involved Austin in--in--" (a fresh burst of tears.)

I comforted, scolded, laughed, preached, and adjured in a breath; and
then, drawing my another gently on, entered my father's study.

At the table was seated Mr. Squills, pen in hand, and a glass of his
favorite punch by his side. My father was standing on the hearth, a
shade more pale, but with a resolute expression on his countenance which
was new to its indolent, thoughtful mildness. He lifted his eyes as the
door opened, and then, putting his finger to his lips, as he glanced
towards my mother, he said gayly, "No great harm done. Don't believe
her! Women always exaggerate, and make realities of their own bugbears:
it is the vice of their lively imaginations, as Wierus has clearly shown
in accounting for the marks, moles, and hare-lips which they inflict upon
their innocent infants before they are even born. My dear boy," added my
father, as I here kissed him and smiled in his face, "I thank you for
that smile! God bless you!" He wrung my hand and turned a little aside.

"It is a great comfort," renewed my father, after a short pause, "to
know, when a misfortune happens, that it could not be helped. Squills
has just discovered that I have no bump of cautiousness; so that,
craniologically speaking, if I had escaped one imprudence, I should
certainly have run my head against another."