"He's pretty, isn't he? It was after—you
know what—Bob took up suddenly with a girl
in the village, and though we never knew it
until she was dead (she died last October) he
was married to her, and Arty is his heir. Bob
dotes on him, and my mother too; she insisted
on having him brought home to the Grange, and
if ever you go to our church again you'll see
'Alice, the faithful wife of Robert Livingstone'
on the family monument. She was quite a
common person, and Bob would never have
acknowledged her in my mother's lifetime; but
there's the story, and not so bad as it might
have been. She was handsome, and she loved
Bob, or she would never have borne being looked
down on as she was for his sake, or have kept
his secret. However, it is out now, and she is
gone——"

"Hasn't Arty eaten sweeties enough for
once?" insinuated Polly, caressing the child, but
making no response to Maggie.

"Yes: give the box to aunty to put in her
pocket," Maggie said, and Arty with a little
unwillingness yielded it up.

Then the spring coats were looked at, and
one chosen, and a garden hat, and Arty was
put to sleep for an hour on Miss Wiggins's
bed, while Polly and her friend took a walk
by the river, and continued their conversation.
All the news was on Maggie's side. Polly had
none—literally none.

"And you never will have any while you go
on living to yourself—your interests will lessen
every day you live. Oh! Polly, it makes me
sad to look at you, and to think what might
have been," said Maggie, tenderly.

"Never mind! Let bygones be bygones;"
said Polly, but there were tears in her eyes,
and almost a sob in her throat.

Then they discussed Fanny and Laura and
Maggie's private concerns which were in a
promising way, and the time went so swiftly
that they were five minutes behind the hour
agreed on for Bob to take his sister and little
son up at Miss Wiggins's shop to go home.
The dog-cart, however, was not at the door,
and Maggie said she was glad, for Bob did not
like the mare to be kept standing. They
ascended to the show-room to wait, and he was
not long in coming; he was too soon, indeed,
for half they had to say. At the sound of the
wheels in the street, Polly offered herself for
a last hug of her friend's kind arms, and Maggie
was all in tears.

"You'll come down and speak to Bob, just
for a minute?" said she, and Polly suffered
herself to be entreated, and went with all her heart
in her face.

Bob evidently expected her, though he
coloured when she appeared; and as he lifted his
hat, she saw he was ever so much older, but he
had his kind rallying smile for her, as he said:
"You wear well, Polly: better than most of us,
I think."

"It is a calm life at the Warden House," said
she, quite with a shaken voice.

"And so you are going all the way to
Germany—going by yourself?"

"Yes." She had to stand aside for Maggie
and the child to reach their places, and from the
step of Miss Wiggins's shop she waved them
all her good-byes. She was still standing gazing
after them when Bob looked round before turning
the corner of the street, and told Maggie
to dry her eyes and not fret.

"I can't help fretting when I think I shall
perhaps never, never see her again; dear little
thing that she is! Oh! Bob, if you had only
waited to ask her till now that she's come to
a right sense of things."

Bob made no answer to his sister's rueful
adjuration; he was lost in thought of Polly's
beauty and Polly's sweetness, as they were
once and were still, and wondering whether
she would have anything to do with him now.

Perhaps you can guess how it all ended, and I
need tell you no more.

Yes. Bob asked Polly again, and Polly gave
him a prettier answer this time. Mrs. Curtis
cried at the wedding, and foreboded many evils,
but they have not befallen yet. While waiting
for them, she is, however, blessed in a standing
grievance—namely, that Polly's one boy,
is not the eldest son, and will not inherit
the Livingstone Manor. But she is not aware
that she is herself to blame for this, her pet
mortification, and Polly is not likely to tell
her.

FAREWELL SERIES OF READINGS
                           BY
       MR. CHARLES DICKENS

MESSRS. CHAPPELL AND Co. beg to announce
that, knowing it to be the determination of MR.
DICKENS finally to retire from Public Reading soon
after his return from America, they (as having been
honoured with his confidence on previous occasions)
made proposals to him while he was still in the
United States achieving his recent brilliant successes
there, for a final FAREWELL SERIES OF READINGS in
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by MR. DICKENS, in a manner highly gratifying to
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The Series will commence in the ensuing autumn,
and will comprehend, besides London, some of the
chief towns in England, Ireland, and Scotland.
It is scarcely necessary for MESSRS. CHAPPELL AND
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CHAPPELL AND Co., 50, New Bond-street, London, W.

On the 12th instant was published, bound in cloth,
                               price 5s. 6d.
                   THE NINETEENTH VOLUME.