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“You needn’t give yourself the trouble of calling at all, Miss Ellison,” replied Mr. Burgess. “The moment I have seen the person of whom we were speaking, I will either call upon your mother or send her a note.”

“You are very kind,” dropped almost involuntarily from Lucy’s lips, as, with a graceful inclination of her body, she drew her veil over her face, and, turning from the merchant, walked quickly away.

When Paul went home at dinner-time, he said to his wife, “I am sure you couldn’t guess who I had for a visitor this morning.”

“Then of course it would be useless for me to try,” replied the wife, smiling. “Who was it?”

“You know the Ellisons?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Ellison, you remember, died about a year ago.”

“Yes.”

“At the time of his death it was rumoured that his estate was involved, but never having had any business transactions with him, I had no occasion to investigate the matter, and did not really know what had been the result of its settlement. This morning I was greatly surprised to receive a visit from Lucy Ellison, who had grown up into a beautiful young woman.”

“Indeed!” ejaculated the wife. “And what did she want?”

“She came at her mother’s request to solicit my influence with Mr. C—-, who is in want of a French teacher. She said that their circumstances were very much changed since her father’s death and that it had become necessary for her to do something as a means of supporting the family. The salary given by Mr. C—-to his French teacher is five hundred dollars. I really pitied the young thing from my heart. Think of our Mary, in two or three years from this, when, if ever, a cloudless sky should bend over her, going to some old friend of her father’s, and almost tearfully soliciting him to beg for her, of another, the privilege of toiling for bread. It made my heart ache.”

“She must be very young,” remarked Mrs. Burgess.

“Not over eighteen or nineteen.”

“Poor thing! What a sad, sad change she must feel it to be! But did you call upon Mr. C—-?”

A slight shade passed over the countenance of Paul.

“Not yet,” he replied.

“Oh, you ought to have gone at once.”

“I know. I was going as soon as Lucy left, but I thought I would attend to a little business down town first, and go to Mr. C—-‘s immediately on my return. When I came back, I thought I would look over the newspaper a little; I wanted to see what had been said in Congress on the tariff question, which is now the all-absorbing topic. I became so much interested in the remarks of one of the members, that I forgot all about Lucy Ellison until I was called off by a customer, who occupied me until dinner-time. But I will certainly attend to it this afternoon.”

“Do, by all means. There should not be a moment’s delay, for Mr. C—-may supply himself with a teacher.”

“Very true. If that were to happen through my neglect, I should never forgive myself.”

“Hadn’t you better call as you go to the store? It will be just in your way.”

“So it will. Yes, I will call and put the matter in train at once,” replied the husband.

With this good intention in his mind, Paul left his dwelling after dinner. He had only gone a couple of squares, however, before it occurred to him that as Mr. C—-had only one session of his school, which let out at two or half-past two, he didn’t know which, he of course did not dine before three o’clock, and as it was then just a quarter past three, it would not do to call upon him then; so he kept on to his store, fixing in his mind four o’clock as the hour at which he would call. Four o’clock found Paul deeply buried in a long series of calculations that were not completed for some time afterwards. On leaving his desk, he sat leisurely down in an arm-chair for the purpose of thinking about business. He had not thought long, before the image of Lucy Ellison came up before his mind. He drew out his watch.