linger and hesitate over some secret thoughts. But, presently, he stopped right before the machine.

It has been already intimated that, in his long solitary labours, he had so accustomed himself to speak aloud, that the desire came spontaneously to him whenever he was more than ordinarily moved. Just now he could not resist talking once more to his old " comrade.”

Come, come; what must be, must be. Time's come, old fellow, to part; and if the feeling's all on one side, never mind. We won't have many words. I didn't think, after all that has passed, our way in life would be so very different. Never mind! Thou art going to be made much of-to be honoured-to be great; while I-ha! ha! ha!-as though a poor inventor hadn't himself to blame for expecting anything else! Come, we won't darken the farewell hour. I am very glad I made thee. Don't forget that. And if the poor pauper world can't afford to pay honestly for the things it needs and covets, and if it likes to please its fancy by thinking-' No doubt things are all arranged for the best; why should we trouble?'-let it have its own way: I shan't contest the matter. Besides, who knows, old fellow, but that you, who won't be able to get me bread while I live, shall secure me a glorious monumental stone when I am dead—ay, in yonder churchyard? The glory of it! Among one's native grave-stones! The vision wins so, I could half make up my mind to go at once, select my own grave, slip quietly into it, and there wait in luxurious ease and expectancy. Ha! ha! ha!

Come, one last touch! One last sound of the old voice!" The inventor's own voice had now changed from the tone of bitter mirth to one of acute pain, and of the deepest tenderness. As he touched the spring and listened to the sounds, so harsh and grating to other ears, but so inexpressibly sweet to him, he knelt down by the machine, his head bowed upon his breast, and remained for a long time silent. It was as if he desired to assure himself that all within there was well, before he left it for ever; and as though, physician like, he listened to the most secret beatings of the heart, with a skill that could detect in the slightest faltering or peculiarity of sound any weakness or danger. He rose as if satisfied; and again gazed long and yearningly, before he muttered, "Ay, whirl and whiz and bustle along! O the sweet music for humanity, that may be drawn out of one sad heart and brain; and O, the world's payment!"

When Mr. Wolcombe returned to take another look at the machine, the inventor had gone.

CHAPTER XIII.

BEHIND THE SETTLE.

THE grey twilight was slowly closing round Barden Brow, dimming the gold of its ripe corn fields, and throwing into shadowy indistinctness its encircling hills.

Widow Giffard turned from her gate, where she had been looking anxiously across the green, till the white footpath faded from her sight.

"Poor fellow! I wonder how he gets on to-day!" she said to herself, as she gave one more touch to the graceful folds of the newly-washed white muslin curtains, that fell on either side a little table placed in the window, and which, for the last two hours, had been spread with the lodger's tea things. Through the gathering dusk one could just see the sheen of the best gilt-edged china; the common but elegantly formed tray, with its bright border of blue and yellow pansies; and the round pat of butter with the cow reposing on the top within the diamonded edge. On the other side of the high settle, which the widow had drawn out so as to completely screen off a corner from the rest of the room, a cheerful fire threw its light upon the dresser of plates, and made the silver

sand on the floor sparkle, and revealed through the open door of the oven a tray of rich brown cakes,— getting too brown the widow feared,-which mingled their fragrance with that which issued from the bright teapot on the fender.

The widow was now getting really anxious, and could not keep still a minute. She passed from one side of the settle to the other, now to look through the window, and then back again to the fire, to stir it or do something to it, or think what she might do to it—though all the while no fire could be going on more satisfactorily in every respect. Really the widow gets quite cross; there, she is now whiffling off a poor fly from the sugar basin, when it was doing nothing worse than taking a walk round the edge, and benefiting by so favourable and airy a position for sending up its hind legs, and giving them a quivering bath of air.

"When will he come ?" she asked herself wearily, almost pettishly. People will get pettish as they begin to grow uncomfortable, no matter how angelic may have been their previous patience. She looked at the still deepening brown of the cakes, and at the cream that was beginning to settle thick and yellow on the jug of milk. The butter cow seemed to answer her by looking wonderfully easy as to its fate, as though quite assured it was not going to be disturbed yet awhile. The cat at the door, instead of giving any sign of intelligence as to footsteps coming, suddenly opened its jaws, gave a sleepy yawn, and turned back into the room. The widow had just determined to give over watching and sit down to her work, when

the little garden gate was thrown violently open, and a voice at the door cried exultingly,

"All right, widow! Here I am, you see, alone! My comrade gone!"

"That is good news indeed;" said the widow, going to meet him. Then stopping, she exclaimed, “But you are ill! Ah, you have had another dreadful day's walking in the sun. Come, sit down. I won't hear a word till you have had some tea."

"Hang tea!" cried the inventor, his eyes flashing, and his swarthy cheeks glowing with excitement. “I mean, not your tea, widow, which I am sure will be delicious, but tea in general. One wants wine when one's in such glorious spirits!"

"What, have you exceeded your expectation, then?" The inventor leaned back in his chair, and laughed.

"Exceeded! O, immensely! Why I only expected the thing would bring me a fortune by driblets for the next twenty years or so, and here have I got it all in a lump. Look! Look!" He put his hand in his pocket, and took out the five sovereigns, and threw them rattling on to a plate. "That's a foretaste only!" he continued, feeling for the notes. "But look here, widow; all five pound notes! See, one-two-three-four-fivesix-seven-eight-nine! Let's paste them together, end to end, and see how much they'll measure. Nay, we'll send a paragraph to the local paper, and 'twill fly all over England. All that paid to a poor working man for only a few years' labour !'"

Again he laughed; and so strangely and mock