allayed much anxiety. Darrell made the most of it in his representations
to Waife. And the old man, as we know, was one not hard to comfort,
never quarrelling irrevocably with Hope.

And now Waife is rapidly recovering. Darrell, after spending the greater
part of several days, intent upon a kind of study from which he had been
estranged for many years, takes to frequent absences for the whole day;
goes up to London by the earliest train, comes back by the latest.
George Morley also goes to London for a few hours. Darrell, on
returning, does not allude to the business which took him to the
metropolis; neither does George, but the latter seems unusually animated
and excited. At length, after one of these excursions, so foreign to his
habits, he and George enter together the old man's apartment not long
before the early hour at which the convalescent retires to rest. Sophy
was seated on the footstool at Waife's knee, reading the Bible to him,
his hand resting lightly on her bended head. The sight touched both
George and Darrell; but Darrell of the two was the more affected. What
young, pure voice shall read to HIM the Book of Hope in the evening of
lonely age? Sophy started in some confusion, and as, in quitting the
room, she passed by Darrell, he took her hand gently, and scanned her
features more deliberately, more earnestly than he had ever yet seemed to
do; then he sighed, and dropped the hand, murinuring, "Pardon me." Was
he seeking to read in that fair face some likeness to the Darrell
lineaments? If he had found it, what then? But when Sophy was gone,
Darrell came straight to Waife with a cheerful brow--with a kindling eye.

"William Losely," said he.

"Waife, if you please, sir," interrupted the old man. William Losely,"
repeated Darrell, "justice seeks to repair, so far as, alas! it now can,