did. Only when Prescott described the emotion of Captain Bradshaw did he

appear affected.

“It is a strange story, sir,” he said when Prescott had finished, “and I am very glad to hear my poor mother was forgiven. For myself, sir, it makes but little difference. I am not like other men; still it will be a pleasure to me to be able to have what books I like, and to see for the first time the world. After what you have told me of my grandfather, I shall be glad if only for his sake. Had he been a cold, proud man, who would have been ashamed of his cripple relative, I would have remained here, where all have been so kind to me. My real father and mother are here.”

“Don’t think of us, James,” Mrs. Holl said, crying; “John and me will be only too glad to know you have doctors and comforts, and change of air, such as we could not give you. No, don’t you worry yourself about us, James.”

“Your grandfather is waiting outside, James, with his niece. May they come in?”

It was a touching scene when Captain Bradshaw entered. He paused at the door, and looked wistfully at the pale figure in his quaint chair. Then he came forward and took the lad’s thin hand in his.

“My poor boy, my poor boy!” he said; “my Laura’s child. To think you should have been all these years so near to me, and that I should never have dreamt of your existence, James. I have to ask your pardon, it is too late to ask hers now, for the past. I would have atoned it to her, but I could not; let me atone it to you.”

“Poor grandfather!” the lad said; “it has been hard on you, too, all these years—harder than on me. You could not find a child again—I found another mother.”

“Yes, indeed,” the old man said, and turning to Mrs. Holl, who was standing by crying audibly, “You good woman. How can I thank you; what can I say to you in my dead child’s name and in my own? But Mrs. Holl, you and your husband will surely have your reward. You know the words, ‘I was naked, and ye clothed me; sick, and ye visited me; hungry, and ye took me in.’ God will bless you. No thanks I can give you can repay you as your own good conscience must do. I never can repay you, and yet, Mrs. Holl, in some way or other you shall find Harry Bradshaw is not ungrateful.”

“Don’t talk of it, sir,” Mrs. Holl sobbed. “Me and John only did our duty, and it was a real pleasure, too, for James has always been a happiness and a comfort to us. ’Cept as to his accident, he has never caused us a sore moment.”

“And now, Mrs. Holl, you will spare him to me?” the old man said. “You have, I hear, other children; she was my only one. My claim is as nothing to yours, but for his own sake you will let him go?”

“Lor, yes, sir, and glad to know he is with his own people, and well cared for. But you will let us come to see him sometimes?”

Mrs. Holl was soon assured upon this point, and Captain Bradshaw then turned again to his grandson, who, during this time, had been talking to Alice Heathcote or Prescott. The lad was pleased and happy with his new relations. As to Captain Bradshaw’s earnestness there could be no doubt, and the lad felt in looking up at Alice, and in listening to her quiet, gentle voice, that it would be indeed pleasant to live with people like these, who would understand his thoughts and feelings, as the kind friends around him could never have done. But he refused to assent to Captain Bradshaw’s proposition that the carriage should come to take him away. “No, grandfather,” he said, “I cannot go away and let father come home and find I have gone without a word; I must see him first. Please go home now, sir; I should like to think it all over, and to talk with mother here. In a few days I will come, but not now.”

In vain Captain Bradshaw—who greatly admired the thoughtful kindness of the lad’s decision—argued against it; in vain Mrs. Holl entreated him, with tears in her eyes, not to mind them, but to go with his new friends. The boy was firm, and Captain Bradshaw could not but respect his decision.

The next morning Captain Bradshaw and Alice again called, and again the next day, but it was not until the third day that James gave way to the entreaties of all around him, and consented to leave those who had for so many years acted as parents to him. By eight o’clock that evening he was comfortably installed in an invalid chair in the drawing-room at Lowndes Square. That was a wonderful evening to him. The spacious room, the handsome furniture, the soft light of the candles—the whole atmosphere of comfort and luxury, were almost bewildering to him, who had scarcely from his earliest remembrance passed the threshold of the home he had lived in. Very delightful to his ear was the pleasant talk of Captain Bradshaw, and the softened accents of Alice Heathcote; and when the latter at her uncle’s request sat down and sang to him, he could hardly believe that it was all true, and that he was indeed always to live in this atmosphere of refinement and luxury. Not less were his newly-found relatives pleased with him. They were surprised at his easy and quiet mode of addressing himself, and at the acquaintance which he showed with books and literature. He was well read in the countries they had travelled in, and took his part in conversation quietly, but with modest confidence. The next evening Prescott came to dinner. James had been carried down in his chair, and to him the rich appointments of the dinner table, and the various strange dishes were a matter of extreme surprise, but with native good breeding he expressed nothing of what he felt, but took his part gaily in the conversation. After dinner Captain Bradshaw said, “Now, James, you can either stop down here and hear us talk, or you can go up stairs with Alice, and ask her to play to you.”

“I will go up stairs, if you will allow me,” James said, and Prescott almost envied him as his chair was carried out of the room, followed by Alice.

“He is a fine fellow, Mr. Prescott; I am proud of him. Ah, if he had not been a cripple!” and the old man sighed. “He is very weak, too, but I think he looks better already.”

“I think he does, sir,” Prescott said. “I feel confident that the change will do him good. And now, Captain Bradshaw, I am going to ask what steps you are going to take to prove that this lad is your grandson.”

“Prove it!” Captain Bradshaw said, surprised; “why, there is no doubt about the matter.”

“To our minds, no,” Prescott said; “the seal, the initials on the clothing, and the agreements of dates and ages are quite sufficient; still, it would be, of course, satisfactory, both to yourself and him, to have the case put in a shape which no one could doubt. There is no doubt, for instance, in our minds, of the marriage of his mother, because you had it from her own lips, but it would be desirable to have the certificate, as also the register of the boy’s birth, and some sort of proof, if obtainable, that the poor lady who died at Mrs. Holl’s was his mother and your daughter.”

“As you say, it would be better, Mr. Prescott; as far as the estates go, it makes no difference. I have no son, so the entail is broken, and I can leave them as I choose; and it will, therefore, make no actual difference whether James is legally proved to be my heir or not. Still, it would be, as you say, desirable. How is it to be done?”

“Well,” Prescott said, hesitatingly, “unquestionably the best plan would be to go to Barton; I have no doubt he has carefully procured all the necessary evidence. He may, perhaps, demand an exorbitant sum, but now that he must see he will get nothing in the way he had intended, we may make terms with him.”

“No, no, Mr. Prescott,” Captain Bradshaw said, striking the table with his hand; “not one farthing shall that infernal scoundrel get from me—not one single farthing. If it had not been for him—but there, I shall only get in a passion if I talk about him,” and Captain Bradshaw gulped down a glass of wine with a force and fury which nearly deprived him of breath.

“Well, sir, in that case we must try other means—advertising, and so on. I will, if you will entrust the matter to me, think the matter over, and set about it quietly.”

“Do, Mr. Prescott; I am greatly indebted to you for your kindness already, very greatly, and only wish—there, I see what you are going to say; don’t say it, but I have been thinking it over. And now—yes, I knew there was something else I wanted to speak to you about, and to ask you to do for me. About those good people, the Holls. You know I can’t offer them money, but anything money could buy, you know, anything, I would do for them.”

Prescott thought for a minute.

“I should say, sir, the way to make John Holl a rich man in his own way would be to buy him two or three carts and half a dozen horses, and to purchase some little established connection at the same time as a carrier or dust contractor, or something of that sort.”

“The very thing,” Captain Bradshaw said. “I give you _carte blanche_. Buy the lease, you know, of the house and furniture and stable, and all that; make all the arrangements, and come to me when you have done for a cheque for the amount, and, above all, don’t be afraid of making it too large. There, I am glad that’s off my mind. Now, if you won’t take any more wine, we’ll go upstairs.”

Upon the following evening, at half-past eight, when he knew that the children would be in bed, and that John Holl would be smoking his pipe, Prescott went down to his house. He had made John Holl’s acquaintance at the time when he had seen about the arrangements for Bessy’s sailing to join her husband in Australia.

“I am main glad to see you, Mr. Prescott; sit down, sir. We had a letter from our Evan this morning; he seems to like navvying work very much, Evan does, and lor, how fond he is of Mr. Maynard, to be sure. But there, that ain’t to be wondered at. He be an out-and-outer. There’s no mistake about he. Shocking bad job his losing all his money in that there Bank, weren’t it, sir?”

“It was, Mr. Holl,” Prescott said, lighting his pipe, “a very bad business, indeed. Please sit down, Mrs. Holl, else I shan’t be able to talk to John here.”

Mrs. Holl took her work and sat down at the table.

“A strange thing your James turning out to be a rich man at last, John?”

“Ay, that were a rum turn out, sir. Sarah’s been to see him to-day, and she says he seems as comfortable and as right as ninepence.”

“I have known Captain Bradshaw for a long time, John, and I am sure he and James will get on capitally together.”

“What tickles my fancy, Mr. Prescott,” John said, taking his pipe out of his mouth and laughing to himself, “what tickles my fancy more than all the rest, is to think that chap Barton, after all the years of snuffing and smelling about here, ain’t going to get anything out of it. To think he knew all along as how as James were Captain Bradshaw’s grandson, and never said a word about it! I wouldn’t mind giving a pound—well, no, I don’t know as I’d mind giving five pound—for a turn up with him for half an hour. He’s a pretty stiff one, but I think,” John Holl said meditatingly, “I think I’d give him soup in half an hour. I wish I could pay him out, and I ain’t quite sure I can’t. Perkins—you know Perkins, sir, of the ‘Stunners?’” Prescott nodded. “Well, I’ve heard Perkins say that the Slogger—know the Slogger, Mr. Prescott?” Prescott again nodded—“that the Slogger says as how he knows that against Barton as would make his life not worth a brass farthing if it was known.”

“Indeed?” Prescott said, much interested. “I think I will go down and see the Slogger, John. Barton has got some papers, or rather knows where to get them, which are essential to prove legally who James is, and if I could put the screw on to him I might get him to tell me all about it.”

“Well, sir, it’s Friday to-night, you won’t find him at the ‘Stunners;’ to-morrow’s the night for the ‘Stunners,’ and you are safe to catch him there then, and I expect he’ll tell you sharp enough if he thinks it will do Barton a bad turn; he hates him like poison, I know, for Barton got his brother transported four or five years back, and I have heard him swear he would be square with Barton some day yet.”

“I will go down, John. I used often to be at the ‘Stunners’ years ago with Mr. Maynard. And how goes business, John?”

“Pretty much as usual, sir. Dust is pretty steady. It’s looking up though, dust is; they’re making such a sight of bricks round London now, that cinders fetch their price. I can remember when dust warn’t worth next to nothing, and the contractor was paid for carting it away. Lor bless you, it’s as good as money now. The gaffer as I works for, he’s made a snug thing of it. I hear he’s going out of it with enough to live on. At one time he could scarce pay his men. It used to be a doubt in my mind all the week whether I would get my money on Saturday night, and now they say he has got his five thousand pounds, and he’s going to give it up and go down into the country.”

“How many carts has he, Mr. Holl?”

“He’s got eight carts and fifteen horses. Some are double carts and some single, you see. Johnson’s his name, down beyond Cremorne. I don’t suppose it will make much odds to me, he has promised to pass me over to the new gaffer when he sells off. Are you going, sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Holl, it is almost time I was off. Good night; good night, Mrs. Holl. I daresay I shall see you before long again.”