"I am certain of it," replied the doctor. "He has become a teetotaler, and keeps the pledge faithfully. I do not believe there exists a more sober man than he is at present."

Gideon then gave the doctor a short sketch of Brandon's history, comprising his marriage, his commencing business, the birth of his child, as well as his conviction for forgery, and sentence to transportation. "Of course, doctor," he concluded, "I am speaking to you in perfect confidence. I know him to be an escaped convict, and although it may not be legal to do anything to save him from the law, I am no informer, and will not interfere in the matter."

"Nor will I," said the doctor, who had been greatly interested in Gideon's sketch of Christian Brandon's life. "But what had the poor fellow better do ?"

"I know but one thing he can do, and that perhaps is the best for his own interest after all. He must go abroad without delay-say to America; and as he has plenty of courage, energy, and ability, if he will add to these sobriety and integrity, which I really believe he will do, there is no man better calculated to get on in the world than he is."

"But if he goes to America," said the little doctor with a look of alarm, "he will take his child with him, I suppose?"

"No," replied Gideon. "In the first place, the law would not allow him to do that, even were he not under the liability to be arrested as he is at present. All circumstances considered, I thought it better to make her a ward in Chancery, and the Lord Chancellor will not, without his permission being first given, allow her to live anywhere beyond his jurisdiction."

A weight seemed taken off the doctor's mind as Gideon said this, and he took up his hat to leave the house. Before going, Gideon advised him to give no information whatever to any one respecting Brandon, and even if he received a letter from him, not to let any one see the post-mark.

The following morning brought Gideon a letter from Christian, in which he informed him that he had taken a room in a cottage near Uxbridge, where it was his intention to remain for the present. He implored Gideon to advise him what to do for the future. He wished, if possible, he said, to be near his little doughter, though even in that respect he would be guided by Gideon's opinion, whatever pain it might cause him to leave her. He also begged Gideon to tell him if he had heard anything connected with Mr. Desbrow's movements, and said he should wait with great anxiety for a reply to this question. In the meantime, for fear of detection, he should remain in seclusion at Uxbridge, never leaving the house till after dark.

Although it gave Gideon great satisfaction to hear his friend was still in safety, he resolved not to write to him, but rather, if he could

so contrive it, to pay him a visit instead. From the number of years he had been in an attorney's office, he had acquired a considerable amount of prudence, and had especially acquired a vast respect for the Latin proverb, Res scripta manet. If he wrote to Christian the letter might fall into other hands, and by it might possibly be indirectly discovered, that he was aware Christian was an escaped convict. If, on the contrary, he paid him a visit, no one need be present at their interview, and the whole affair could be kept secret. He now resolved, if nothing should occur to prevent it, to go to Uxbridge the next morning.

In order that he might take with him the last information, in the afternoon he drove over to Kent Street to see Mr. McNeil, and learn whether he had heard anything more of Skidmore and the detective. On arriving at the doctor's house, he found Jackson alone in the shop, who told him his master had gone out for half-an-hour, but would soon be back. Gideon now seated himself in a chair beside the counter, and for some moments neither he nor the lad spoke a word. At length, partly in jest and partly to obtain information, and possibly even for the sake of practice in the examination or cross-examination of a witness, Gideon determined to question Jackson respecting the visit of the detective, and what he personally knew of Brandon. He commenced by asking if anything more had been heard of the detective officer and the publican who had called there a few days

"I mean," continued Gideon, "those two men who called here the day before yesterday when the doctor was out, and had some conversation with you. The doctor told me all about it, and I want to know if you have seen anything of them since."

"Yes," said the boy-who knowing that Gideon was a friend of the doctor's-threw off a considerable portion of his habitual caution, "yes, I saw the man this morning when I was leaving some medicine at the chandler's shop down there."

"And did he speak to you?"

"Yes, he did," said Jackson. "He's not a man to be shy at all when he wants to get anything out of a fellow."

"Well, what did he say to you?"

'Why, first of all he asks me whether I was as big a fool as I'd been the day before, and a lot of chaff of that kind, so by way of seeing what he was after, I told him I didn't mean to be a fool if I could help it; but I thought it was the nature of the beast. That's all gammon,' said he, 'or if it ain't let me try if I can't make something out of you, for I've made a precious sharp fellow out of a chap that hadn't a quarter of your brains before now, and that in a very pleasant way too,' so I says to him, 'I'm rather afraid of your pleasant ways, they hurts afterwards sometimes.' 'You needn't be now, at any rate,' says he, laughing. I'll give you a proof. Do you see

that sovereign?' says he, taking one out of his pocket; 'now I'll give it you if you'll tell me where I can find Mr. Brandon.' 'No, thank you,' says I; 'not if I know it,' and walked on."

"But why did you refuse the sovereign ?" asked Gideon.

"You don't suppose that Mr. Brandon's done anything he need be ashamed of, do you?" said Jackson slily.

"Of course not," said Gideon.

"Then, you see," continued the lad, "it would be twice as unpleasant for him if he hadn't done anything wrong. Them detectives don't go about taking all that trouble, and offering sovereigns to doctor's errand-boys only for the fun of the thing. I ain't a chap to split on anyone that's in trouble. Why, when I was a precious deal worse off than I am now, I wouldn't take five pounds to split on a woman that was wanted, and yet I'd eat nothing all day but a cold potato which a maidservant, in a house near Convent Garden, gave me."

"Well, it was most unselfish of you certainly," said Gideon. "But did you know anything of the woman, or had she done anything for you?"

"Well, she had certainly," replied Jackson, somewhat sheepishly, and then, as if to exonerate himself from any undue or blameable weakness, he continued: "One night when it was precious cold, and I'd neither shoe nor stocking on, she took me under the "dark arches" in the Adelphi, and there tore a slip off her petticoat to tie round my feet, which was all covered with chilblains; but for all that she'd have

Here Jackson stopped short and coloured highly, for the idea had struck him that he was being what is professionally called, "drawn out." Gideon, however, asked him other questions, but the lad had taken the alarm, and nothing could be got from him but monosyllables in reply, and these rather evading than answering the questions put to him. Harcourt, finding him unwilling to continue the conversation, also became silent, and neither spoke a word for some minutes. At length the silence was broken by Jackson, who said to him:

"I beg pardon, sir! but ain't you one of them gentlemen who attend at police courts to defend a prisoner ?"

"To defend or prosecute, as the case may be," replied Gideon. “A barrister I suppose you mean. Yes, I am one."

"That's it, sir," replied the lad, with a sigh of relief at discovering he had not been made to commit himself to a non-professional person. "It's all right then; and, of course, as a professional gentleman you won't say anything about what we've been talking of, will you, sir?" "You may trust to my honour," said Gideon, with mock gravity, "I look upou you as my client."

Not quite, sir," said Jackson; and then remembering that Gideon

knew his history, he continued: "When I left Red Hill I determined never to be any man's client again,-I mean not to defend me, and I intend keeping my word."

"I am glad to hear it," said Gideon; "keep firm to that resolution and be industrious, and you will be an honourable and respectable member of society yet."

The entrance of the doctor with little Charlotte Brandon put an end to their conversation. The child immediately advanced to Harcourt and shook hands with him, and asked if he had come to fetch her to see Giddy (as Gideon's little son was now called). Mrs. McNeil had taken Charlotte several times to Bedford Square, and an intimacy had sprung up between the two children.

"No, I did not come for that;" said Gideon, "but if you like to go back with me you can. I am sure Giddy will be very pleased to see you.'

"Oh, I shall like to go so much!" said the child.

Very well then, I will take you if your papa has no objection."

The doctor, of course, had none, and it was agreed that Charlotte should return with Gideon, and Mr. McNeil should call for her in the evening. The child was then sent up to Mrs. McNeil to make preparations for her visit, and Gideon accompanied the doctor into the little sitting-room that they might converse together without fear of being disturbed or overheard.

"I have received a letter from Mr. Brandon," the doctor began, as soon as he had closed the door, and I intend answering it to-night. I am glad, however, you have called, as you will be able to advise me what to say to him in reply."

Mr. McNeil then took the letter from his pocket, and handed it to Gideon to read. It closely resembled the one he had himself received in the morning, with the addition that Christian asked the doctor to give him every information he could about little Charlotte. When Gideon had finished reading the letter, he returned it to the doctor, and inquired if there was any particular subject he wished to mention in replying to it.

"None whatever," replied McNeil; "indeed I should not have written at all, except to tell him the child was well."

"There will be no necessity for that then," said Gideon, "for I intend running down to Uxbridge to-morrow morning, and I can tell Mr. Brandon all about the child. And now I want to know if you have seen anything more of the detective ?"

Nothing more replied the doctor, "though I know he is still hanging about the neighbourhood. In fact, Jackson informs me that he met

him this morning."

After a little more conversation on indifferent subjects Harcourt bade the doctor good morning, and returned home, taking Charlotte

with him to spend the rest of the day with her little friend Giddy. Although they had now been married for some years, to the great sorrow of Gideon and his wife, they had but this one child. They had set their hopes on having another, and that one a girl, but were doomed to be disappointed. Possibly it was for this reason they had taken a great affection for little Charlotte Brandon, irrespective of the beautiful child she was, and her amiable and endearing manners. From the unfortunate position in which she was placed, they considered her in the light of an orphan thrown on them for protection. Her forlorn lot seemed to increase their love for her, till at last they almost looked upon her with as much affection as if she had been their own child, and her visits to their house were scarcely less welcome to them than they were to her playmate Giddy. The boy seemed to entertain for her the same affection he would have had for a little sister a year or two younger than himself. Although naturally a healthy child, and with high spirits, he seemed to treat her with singular kindness and gentleness; and in their games, would show much sympathy at any little accident which occasionally befel her.

On each successive visit little Charlotte seemed to identify herself more with the family, and both Harcourt and his wife, without mentioning the fact to each other, began to look forward with something like impatience to the time when they could have her to reside with them, though neither liked the idea of proposing to the little doctor that she should leave him, knowing what grief it would cause him. Mrs. Harcourt at length broke silence on the subject. The morning Gideon was to visit Brandon at Uxbridge, she said to her husband:

"How much longer do you intend leaving Charlotte under the care of Mr. McNeil ?"

I have not given the matter a thought, Kate," replied Gideon, uttering at the time a gross falsehood.

"But, Gideon, from what I understand you to say, Kent Street seems a very demoralised place. Charlotte, though very young, is a remarkably intelligent child, and may hear and learn more than is good for her."

Very true, my dear; and I do not mind saying I should be glad to take her from such a locality to reside with us, but I hardly know how to do it," replied Gideon. "The kindness the little doctor showed her poor mother is beyond all praise, and the fact of his taking the poor destitute child-as Charlotte then was supposed to be-and himself very poor, proves him to be a kind-hearted good fellow. I know, as the child's guardian, I have a right to take her if I please, but I have not the heart to do it; so much, I am sure, would it grieve him. We must wait a little, and possibly something may turn up which will tend to facilitate matters."