up; double the counterpane over the legs, Morton. I remember once
walking in the Mall; little Sid said, 'Devereux'--it is colder and
colder, Morton; raise the blankets more over the back; 'Devereux,' said
little Sid--faith, Morton, 'tis ice now--where art thou?--is the fire
out, that I can't see thee? Remember thine old uncle, Morton--and--
and--don't forget poor--Ponto. Bless thee, my child; bless you all!"

And my uncle died!



CHAPTER III.

A GREAT CHANGE OF PROSPECTS.

I SHUT myself up in the apartments prepared for me (they were not those
I had formerly occupied), and refused all participation in my solitude,
till, after an interval of some days, my mother came to summon me to the
opening of the will. She was more moved than I had expected. "It is a
pity," said she, as we descended the stairs, "that Aubrey is not here,
and that we should be so unacquainted with the exact place where he is
likely to be that I fear the letter I sent him may be long delayed, or,
indeed, altogether miscarry."

"Is not the Abbe here?" said I, listlessly.

"No!" answered my mother, "to be sure not."

"He has /been/ here," said I, greatly surprised. "I certainly saw him
on the day of my arrival."