The Dutch clock in the corner struck Ten, whenthe Carrier sat down by his fireside. So troubledand grief-worn, that he seemed to scare the Cuckoo,who, having cut his ten melodious announcements asshort as possible, plunged back into the Moorish Pal-ace again, and clapped his little door behind him,as if the unwonted spectacle were too much for hisfeelings.

If the little Haymaker had been armed with thesharpest of scythes, and had cut at every stroke intothe Carrier's heart, he never could have gashed andwounded it, as Dot had done.

It was a heart so full of love for her; so boundup and held together by innumerable threads of win-ning remembrance, spun from the daily working ofher many qualities of endearment; it was a heart inwhich she had enshrined herself so gently and soclosely; a heart so single and so earnest in its Truth,so strong in right, so weak in wrong; that it couldcherish neither passion nor revenge at first, and hadonly room to hold the broken image of its Idol.

But, slowly, slowly, as the Carrier sat broodingon his hearth, now cold and dark, other and fiercerthoughts began to rise within him, as an angry windcomes rising in the night. The Stranger was beneathhis outraged roof. Three steps would take him tohis chamber-door. One blow would beat it in. 'Youmight do murder before you know it,' Tackleton hadsaid. How could it be murder, if he gave the villaintime to grapple with him hand to hand! He was theyounger man.

It was an ill-timed thought, bad for the dark moodof his mind. It was an angry thought, goading himto some avenging act, that should change the cheerfulhouse into a haunted place which lonely travellerswould dread to pass by night; and where the timidwould see shadows struggling in the ruined windowswhen the moon was dim, and hear wild noises in thestormy weather.

He was the younger man! Yes, yes; some loverwho had won the heart that he had never touched.Some lover of her early choice, of whom she hadthought and dreamed, for whom she had pined andpined, when he had fancied her so happy by his side.O agony to think of it!

She had been above-stairs with the Baby, getting itto bed. As he sat brooding on the hearth, she cameclose beside him, without his knowledge -- in the turn-ing of the rack of his great misery, he lost all othersounds -- and put her little stool at his feet. He onlyknew it, when he felt her hand upon his own, andsaw her looking up into his face.

With wonder? No. It was his first impression,and he was fain to look at her again, to set it right.No, not with wonder. With an eager and inquiringlook; but not with wonder. At first it was alarmedand serious; then, it changed into a strange, wild,dreadful smile of recognition of his thoughts; then,there was nothing but her clasped hands on her brow,and her bent head, and falling hair.

Though the power of Omnipotence had been his towield at that moment, he had too much of its divinerproperty of Mercy in his breast, to have turned onefeather's weight of it against her. But he couldnot bear to see her crouching down upon the littleseat where he had often looked on her, with loveand pride, so innocent and gay; and, when she roseand left him, sobbing as she went, he felt it a reliefto have the vacant place beside him rather than herso long cherished presence. This in itself was an-guish keener than all, reminding him how desolatehe was become, and how the great bond of his lifewas rent asunder.

The more he felt this, and the more he knew hecould have better borne to see her lying prematurelydead before him with their little child upon her breast,the higher and the stronger rose his wrath againsthis enemy. He looked about him for a weapon.

There was a gun, hanging on the wall. He tookit down, and moved a pace or two towards the doorof the perfidious Stranger's room. He knew the gunwas loaded. Some shadowy idea that it was just toshoot this man like a wild beast, seized him, anddilated in his mind until it grew into a monstrousdemon in complete possession of him, casting out allmilder thoughts and setting up its undivided empire.

That phrase is wrong. Not casting out his milderthoughts, but artfully transforming them. Chang-ing them into scourges to drive him on. Turningwater into blood, love into hate, gentleness into blindferocity. Her image, sorrowing, humbled, but stillpleading to his tenderness and mercy with resistlesspower, never left his mind; but, staying there, iturged him to the door; raised the weapon to hisshoulder; fitted and nerved his finger to the trigger;and cried 'Kill him! In his bed!'

He reversed the gun to beat the stock upon thedoor; he already held it lifted in the air; some in-distinct design was in his thoughts of calling out tohim to fly, for God's sake, by the window --

When, suddenly, the struggling fire illumined thewhole chimney with a glow of light; and the Cricketon the Hearth began to Chirp!

No sound he could have heard, no human voice,not even hers, could so have moved and softenedhim. The artless words in which she had told himof her love for this same Cricket, were once morefreshly spoken; her trembling, earnest manner at themoment, was again before him; her pleasant voice --O what a voice it was, for making household musicat the fireside of an honest man! -- thrilled throughand through his better nature, and awoke it intolife and action.

He recoiled from the door, like a man walkingin his sleep, awakened from a frightful dream; andput the gun aside. Clasping his hands before hisface, he then sat down again beside the fire, andfound relief in tears.

The Cricket on the Hearth came out into the room,and stood in Fairy shape before him.

' "I love it," ' said the Fairy Voice, repeating whathe well remembered, ' "for the many times I haveheard it, and the many thoughts its harmless musichas given me." '

'She said so!' cried the Carrier. 'True!'

' "This has been a happy home, John; and I lovethe Cricket for its sake!" '

'It has been, Heaven knows,' returned the Carrier.She made it happy, always, -- until now.'

'So gracefully sweet-tempered; so domestic, joy-ful, busy, and light-hearted!' said the Voice.

'Otherwise I never could have loved her as I did,'returned the Carrier.

The Voice, correcting him, said 'do.'

The Carrier repeated 'as I did.' But not firmly.His faltering tongue resisted his control, and wouldspeak in its own way, for itself and him.

The Figure, in an attitude of invocation, raisedits hand and said:

'Upon your own hearth --'

'The hearth she has blighted,' interposed theCarrier.

'The hearth she has -- how often! -- blessed andbrightened,' said the Cricket; 'the hearth which, butfor her, were only a few stones and bricks and rustybars, but which has been through her, the Altar ofyour Home; on which you have nightly sacrificedsome petty passion, selfishness, or care, and offeredup the homage of a tranquil mind, a trusting nature,and an overflowing heart; so that the smoke fromthis poor chimney has gone upward with a betterfragrance than the richest incense that is burnt beforethe richest shrines in all the gaudy temples of thisworld! -- Upon your own hearth; in its quiet sanc-tuary; surrounded by its gentle influences and asso-ciations; hear her! Hear me! Hear everything thatspeaks the language of your hearth and home!'

'And pleads for her?' inquired the Carrier.

'All things that speak the language of your hearthand home, must plead for her!' returned the Cricket.'For they speak the truth.'

And while the Carrier, with his head upon hishands, continued to sit meditating in his chair, thePresence stood beside him, suggesting his reflectionsby its power, and presenting them before him, asin a glass or picture. It was not a solitary Presence.From the hearthstone, from the chimney, from theclock, the pipe, the kettle, and the cradle; from thefloor, the walls, the ceiling, and the stairs; from thecart without, and the cupboard within, and the house-hold implements; from every thing and every placewith which she had ever been familiar, and withwhich she had ever entwined one recollection of herself in her unhappy husband's mind; Fairies cametrooping forth. Not to stand beside him as theCricket did, but to busy and bestir themselves. Todo all honour to her image. To pull him by theskirts, and point to it when it appeared. To clusterround it, and embrace it, and strew flowers for it totread on. To try to crown its fair head with theirtiny hands. To show that they were fond of it andloved it; and that there was not one ugly, wicked,or accusatory creature to claim knowledge of it --none but their playful and approving selves.

His thoughts were constant to her image. It wasalways there.

She sat plying her needle, before the fire, and sing-ing to herself. Such a blithe, thriving, steady littleDot! The fairy figures turned upon him all at once,by one consent, with one prodigious concentratedstare, and seemed to say 'Is this the light wife youare mourning for!'

There were sounds of gaiety outside, musical in-struments, and noisy tongues, and laughter. A crowdof young merrymakers came pouring in; among whomwere May Fielding and a score of pretty girls. Dotwas the fairest of them all; as young as any of themtoo. They came to summon her to join their partyIt was a dance. If ever little foot were made fordancing, hers was, surely. But she laughed, andshook her head, and pointed to her cookery on thefire, and her table ready spread: with an exultingdefiance that rendered her more charming than shewas before. And so she merrily dismissed them, nod-ding to her would-be partners, one by one, as theypassed; but with a comical indifference, enough tomake them go and drown themselves immediatelyif they were her admirers -- and they must have beenso, more or less; they couldn't help it. And yetindifference was not her character. O no! For pres-ently, there came a certain Carrier to the door; andbless her what a welcome she bestowed upon him!

Again the staring figures turned upon him all atonce, and seemed to say 'Is this the wife who hasforsaken you!'

A shadow fell upon the mirror or the picture: callit what you will. A great shadow of the Stranger,as he first stood underneath their roof; covering itssurface, and blotting out all other objects. But thenimble Fairies worked like bees to clear it off again.And Dot again was there. Still bright and beautiful.

Rocking her little Baby in its cradle, singing to itsoftly, and resting her head upon a shoulder whichhad its counterpart in the musing figure by which theFairy Cricket stood.

The night -- mean the real night: not going byFairy clocks -- was wearing now; and in this stage ofthe Carrier's thoughts, the moon burst out, and shonebrightly in the sky. Perhaps some calm and quietlight had risen also, in his mind; and he could thinkmore soberly of what had happened.

Although the shadow of the Stranger fell at in-tervals upon the glass -- always distinct, and big, andthoroughly defined -- it never fell so darkly as at first.Whenever it appeared, the Fairies uttered a generalcry of consternation, and plied their little arms andlegs, with inconceivable activity, to rub it out. Andwhenever they got at Dot again, and showed her tohim once more, bright and beautiful, they cheered inthe most inspiring manner.

They never showed her, otherwise than beautifuland bright, for they were Household Spirits to whomfalsehood is annihilation; and being so, what Dotwas there for them, but the one active, beaming,pleasant little creature who had been the light andsun of the Carrier's Home!

The Fairies were prodigiously excited when theyshowed her, with the Baby, gossiping among a knotof sage old matrons, and affecting to be wondrousold and matronly herself, and leaning in a staid, de-mure old way upon her husband's arm, attempting --she! such a bud of a little woman -- to convey theidea of having abjured the vanities of the world ingeneral, and of being the sort of person to whom itwas no novelty at all to be a mother; yet in thesame breath, they showed her, laughing at the Car-rier for being awkward, and pulling up his shirt-collar to make him smart, and mincing merrily aboutthat very room to teach him how to dance!

They turned, and stared immensely at him whenthey showed her with the Blind Girl; for, thoughshe carried cheerfulness and animation with herwheresoever she went, she bore those influences intoCaleb Plummer's home, heaped up and running overThe Blind Glrl's love for her, and trust in her, andgratitude to her; her own good busy way of settingBertha's thanks aside; her dexterous little arts forfilling up each moment of the visit in doing some-thing useful to the house, and really working hardwhile feigning to make holiday; her bountiful pro-vision of those standing delicacies, the Veal and Ham-Pie and the bottles of Beer; her radiant little facearriving at the door, and taking leave; the wonderfulexpression in her whole self, from her neat foot to thecrown of her head, of being a part of the establish-ment -- a something necessary to it, which it couldn'tbe without; all this the Fairies revelled in, and lovedher for. And once again they looked upon him allat once, appealingly, and seemed to say, while someamong them nestled in her dress and fondled her, 'Isthis the wife who has betrayed your confidence!'

More than once, or twice, or thrice, in the longthoughtful night, they showed her to him sitting onher favourite seat, with her bent head, her handsclasped on her brow, her falling hair. As he hadseen her last. And when they found her thus, theyneither turned nor looked upon him, but gatheredclose round her, and comforted and kissed her, andpressed on one another to show sympathy and kind-ness to her, and forgot him altogether.

Thus the night passed. The moon went down; thestars grew pale; the cold day broke; the sun rose.The Carrier still sat, musing in the chimney corner.He had sat there, with his head upon his hands, allnight. All night the faithful Cricket had been Chirp,Chirp, Chirping on the Hearth All night he hadlistened to its voice. All night the household Fairieshad been busy with him. All night she had beenamiable and blameless in the glass, except when thatone shadow fell upon it.

He rose up when it was broad day, and washedand dressed himself. He couldn't go about his cus-tomary cheerful avocations -- he wanted spirit forthem -- but it mattered the less, that it was Tackle-ton's wedding-day, and he had arranged to make hisrounds by proxy. He thought to have gone merrilyto church with Dot. But such plans were at an end.It was their own wedding-day too. Ah! how littlehe had looked for such a close to such a year!

The Carrier had expected that Tackleton wouldpay him an early visit; and he was right. He hadnot walked to and fro before his own door, manyminutes, when he saw the Toy-merchant coming inhis chaise along the road. As the chaise drew nearer,he perceived that Tackleton was dressed out sprucelyfor his marriage, and that he had decorated his horse'shead with flowers and favours.

The horse looked much more like a bridegroomthan Tackleton, whose half-closed eye was more dis-agreebly expressive than ever. But the Carriertook little heed of this. His thoughts had otheroccupation.

'John Peerybingle!' said Tackleton, with an airof condolence. 'My good fellow, how do you findyourself this morning?'

'I have had but a poor night, Master Tackleton,'returned the Carrier shaking his head: 'for I havebeen a good deal disturbed in my mind. But it'sover now! Can you spare me half an hour or so,for some private talk?'

'I came on purpose,' returned Tackleton, alight-ing. 'Never mind the horse. He'll stand quietenough, with the reins over this post, if you'll givehim a mouthful of hay.'

The Carrier having brought it from his stable, andset it before him, they turned into the house.

'You are not married before noon ?' he said, 'Ithink?'

'No,' answered Tackleton. 'Plenty of time. Plentyof time.'

When they entered the kitchen, Tilly Slowboy wasrapping at the Stranger's door; which was only re-moved from it by a few steps. One of her very redeyes (for Tilly had been crying all night long, be-cause her mistress cried) was at the keyhole; and shewas knocking very loud; and seemed frightened.

'If you please I can't make nobody hear,' saidTilly, looking round. 'I hope nobody an't gone andbeen and died if you please!'

This philanthropic wish, Miss Slowboy emphasisedwith various new raps and kicks at the door; whichled to no result whatever.

'Shall I go?' said Tackieton. 'It's curious.'

The Carrier, who had turned his face from thedoor, signed to him to go if he would.

So Tackleton went to Tilly Slowboy's relief; andhe too kicked and knocked; and he too failed toget the least reply. But he thought of trying thehandle of the door; and as it opened easily, he peepedin, looked in, went in, and soon came running outagain.

'John Peerybingle,' said Tackleton, in his ear. 'Ihope there has been nothing -- nothing rash in thenight?'

The Carrier turned upon him quickly.

'Because he's gone!' said Tackleton; 'and the win-dows open. I don't see any marks -- to be sure it'salmost on a level with the garden: but I was afraidthere might have been some -- some scuffle. Eh?'

He nearly shut up the expressive eye altogether;he looked at him so hard. And he gave his eye, andbis face, and his whole person, a sharp twist. Asif he would have screwed the truth out of him.

'Make yourself easy,' said the Carrier. 'He wentinto that room last night, without harm in word ordeed from me, and no one has entered it since. Heis away of his own free will. I'd go out gladly atthat door, and beg my bread from house to house,for life, if I could so change the past, that he hadnever come. But he has come and gone. And Ihave done with him!'

'Oh! -- Well, I think he has got off pretty easy,'said Tackleton, taking a chair.

The sneer was lost upon the Carrier, who sat downtoo, and shaded his face with his hand, for some littletime, before proceeding.

'You showed me last night,' he said at length, 'mywife; my wife that I love; secretly --'

'And tenderly,' insinuated Tackleton.

'Conniving at that man's disguise, and giving himopportunities of meeting her alone. I think there'sno sight I wouldn't have rather seen than that. Ithink there's no man in the world I wouldn't haverather had to show it to me.'

'I confess to having had my suspicions always,'said Tackleton. 'And that has made me objection-able here, I know.'

'But as you did show it me,' pursued the Carrier,not minding him; 'and as you saw her, my wife, mywife that I love'-- his voice, and eye, and hand, grewsteadier and firmer as he repeated these words; evi-dently in pursuance of a steadfast purpose -- 'as yousaw her at this disadvantage, it is right and justthat you should also see with my eyes, and look intomy breast, and know what my mind is, upon the sub-ject. For it's settled,' said the Carrier, regardinghim attentively. 'And nothing can shake it now.'

Tackleton muttered a few general words of assent,about its being necessary to vindicate something orother; but he was overawed by the manner of hiscompanion. Plain and unpolished as it was, it hada something dignified and noble in it, which nothingbut the soul of generous honour dwelling in the mancould have imported.

'I am a plain, rough man,' pursued the Carrier.'with very little to recommend me. I am not a cleverman, as you very well know. I am not a young man.I loved my little Dot, because I had seen her growup, from a child, in her father's house; because Iknew how precious she was; because she had beenmy life, for years and years. There's many men Ican't compare with, who never could have loved mylittle Dot like me, I think!'

He paused, and softly beat the ground a short timewith his foot, before resuming.

'I often thought that though I wasn't good enoughfor her, I should make her a kind husband, and per-haps know her value better than another; and in thisway I reconciled it to myself, and came to think itmight be possible that we should be married. Andin the end it came, and we were married.'

'Hah!' said Tackleton, with a significant shake ofthe head.

'I had studied myself; I had had experience of my-self; I knew how much I loved her, and how happyI should be, pursued the Carrier. 'But I had not --I feel it now -- sufficiently considered her.'

'To be sure,' said Tackleton. 'Giddiness, frivolity,fickleness, love of admiration! Not considered! Allleft out of sight! Hah!'

'You had best not interrupt me,' said the Carrierwlth some sternness, 'till you understand me, andyou're wide of doing so. If, yesterday, I'd havestruck that man down at a blow, who dared to breathea word against her, to-day I'd set my foot upon hisface, if he was my brother!'The Toy-merchant gazed at him in astonishment.He went on in a softer tone:

'Did I consider,' said the Carrier, 'that I took her-- at her age, and with her beauty -- from her youngcompanion, and the many scenes of which she wasthe ornament; in which she was the brightest littlestar that ever shone, to shut her up from day to dayin my dull house, and keep my tedious company?Did I consider how little suited I was to her sprightlyhumour, and how wearisome a plodding man like memust be, to one of her quick spirit? Did I considerthat it was no merit in me, or claim in me, that Iloved her, when everybody must, who knew her?Never. I took advantage of her hopeful nature andher cheerful disposition; and I married her. I wishI never had! For her sake; not for mine!'

The Toy-merchant gazed at him, without winking.Even the half-shut eye was open now.

'Heaven bless her!' said the Carrier, 'for the cheer-ful constancy with which she tried to keep the knowl-edge of this from me! And Heaven help me, that,in my slow mind, I have not found it out before!Poor child! Poor Dot! I not to find it out, whohave seen her eyes fill with tears, when such a mar-riage as our own was spoken of! I, who have seenthe secret trembling on her lips a hundred times, andnever suspected it till last night! Poor girl! ThatI could ever hope she would be fond of me! ThatI could ever believe she was!'

'She made a show of it,' said Tackleton. 'Shemade such a show of it, that to tell you the truthit was the origin of my misgivings.'

And here he asserted the superiority of May Field-ing, who certainly made no sort of show of beingfond of him.

'She has tried,' said the poor Carrier, with greateremotion than he had exhibited yet; 'I only now beginto know how hard she has tried, to be my dutifuland zealous wife. How good she has been; how muchshe has done; how brave and strong a heart she has;let the happiness I have known under this roof bearwitness! It will be some help and comfort to me,when I am here alone.'

'Here alone?' said Tackleton. 'Oh! Then you domean to take some notice of this?'

'I mean,' returned the Carrier, 'to do her the great-est kindness, and make her the best reparation, inmy power. I can release her from the daily pain ofan unequal marriage, and the struggle to conceal it.She shall be as free as I can render her.'

'Make her reparation!' exclaimed Tackleton, twist-ing and turning his great ears with his hands. 'Theremust be something wrong here. You didn't say that,of course.'

The Carrier set his grip upon the collar of the Toy-merchant, and shook him like a reed.

'Listen to me!' he said. 'And take care that youhear me right. Listen to me. Do I speak plainly?'

'Very plainly indeed,' answered Tackleton.

'As if I meant it?'

'Very much as if you meant it.'

'I sat upon that hearth, last night, all night,' ex-claimed the Carrier. 'On the spot where she hasoften sat beside me, with her sweet face looking intomine. I called up her whole life, day by day. I hadher dear self, in its every passage, in review beforeme. And upon my soul she is innocent, if there isOne to judge the innocent and guilty!'

Staunch Cricket on the Hearth! Loyal householdFairies!

'Passion and distrust have left me!' said the Car-rier; 'and nothing but my grief remains. In an un-appy moment some old lover, better suited to hertastes and years than I; forsaken, perhaps, for me,against her will; returned. In an unhappy moment,taken by surprise, and wanting time to think of whatshe did, she made herself a party to his treachery,by concealing it. Last night she saw him, in theinterview we witnessed. It was wrong. But other-wise than this she is innocent if there is truth onearth!'

'If that is your opinion ' Tackleton began.

'So let her go!' pursued the Carrier. 'Go, withmy blessing for the many happy hours she has givenme, and my forgiveness for any pang she has causedme. Let her go, and have the peace of mind I wishher. She'll never hate me. She'll learn to like mebetter, when I'm not a drag upon her, and she wearsthe chain I have riveted, more lightly. This is theday on which I took her, with so little thought forher enjoyment, from her home. To-day she shallreturn to it, and I will trouble her no more. Herfather and mother will be here to-day -- we had madea little plan for keeping it together -- and they shalltake her home. I can trust her, there, or anywhere.She leaves me without blame, and she will live so Iam sure. If I should die -- I may perhaps while sheis still young; I have lost some courage in a few hours-- she'll find that I remembered her, and loved herto the last! This is the end of what you showed me.Now, it's over!'

'O no, John, not over. Do not say it's over yet!Not quite yet. I have heard your noble words. Icould not steal away, pretending to be ignorant ofwhat has affected me with such deep gratitude. Donot say it's over, till the clock has struck again!'

She had entered shortly after Tackleton, and hadremained there. She never looked at Tackleton, butfixed her eyes upon her husband. But she kept awayfrom him, setting as wide a space as possible betweenthem; and though she spoke with most impassionedearnestness, she went no nearer to him even then.How different in this from her old self!

'No hand can make the clock which will strikeagain for me the hours that are gone,' replied theCarrier, with a faint smile. 'But let it be so, if youwill, my dear. It will strike soon. It's of littlematter what we say. I'd try to please you in a hardercase than that.'

'Well!' muttered Tackleton. 'I must be off, forwhen the clock strikes again, it'll be necessary forme to be upon my way to church. Good-morning,John Peerybingle. I'm sorry to be deprived of thepleasure of your company. Sorry for the loss, andthe occasion of it too!'

'I have spoken plainly?' said the Carrier, accom-panying him to the door.

'Oh quite!'

'And you'll remember what I have said?'

'Why, if you compel me to make the observation,'said Tackleton, previously taking the precaution ofgetting into his chaise; 'I must say that it was sovery unexpected, that I'm far from being likely toforget it.'

'The better for us both,' returned the Carrier.Good-bye. I give you joy!'

'I wish I could give it to you,' said Tackleton.'As I can't; thank'ee. Between ourselves, (as I toldyou before, eh?) I don't much think I shall have theless joy in my married life, because May hasn't beentoo officious about me, and too demonstrative. Good-bye! Take care of yourself.'

The Carrier stood looking after him until he wassmaller in the distance than his horse's flowers andfavours near at hand; and then, with a deep sigh,went strolling like a restless, broken man, amongsome neighbouring elms; unwilling to return untilthe clock was on the eve of striking.

His little wife, being left alone, sobbed piteously;but often dried her eyes and checked herself, to sayhow good he was, how excellent he was ! and onceor twice she laughed; so heartlly, triumphantly, andincoherently (still crying all the time), that Tillywas quite horrified.

'Ow if you please don't!' said Tilly. 'It's enoughto dead and bury the Baby, so it is if you please.'

'Will you bring him sometimes to see his father,Tilly,' inquired her mistress, drying her eyes; 'whenI can't live here, and have gone to my old home?'

'Ow if you please don't!' cried Tilly, throwing backher head, and bursting out into a howl -- she lookedat the moment uncommonly like Boxer; 'Ow if youplease don't! Ow, what has everybody gone andbeen and done with everybody, making everybodyelse so wretched! Ow-w-w-w!'

The soft-hearted Slowboy trailed off at this junc-ture, into such a deplorable howl, the more tremen-dous from its long suppression, that she must infal-libly have awakened the Baby, and frightened himinto something serious (probably convulsions), if hereyes had not encountered Caleb Plummer, leading inhis daughter. This spectacle restoring her to a senseof the proprieties, she stood for some few momentssilent, with her mouth wide open; and then, postingoff to the bed on which the Baby lay asleep, dancedin a weird, Saint Vitus manner on the floor, and atthe same time rummaged with her face and headamong the bedclothes, apparently deriving much re-lief from those extraordinary operations.

'Mary!' said Bertha. 'Not at the marriage!'

'I told her you would not be there mum,' whisperedCaleb. 'I heard as much last night. Bless you,' saidthe little man, taking her tenderly by both hands,'I don't care for what they say. I don't believe them.There an't much of me, but that little should be tornto pieces sooner than I'd trust a word against you!'

He put hls arms about her and hugged her, as achild might have hugged one of his own dolls.

'Bertha couldn't stay at home this morning,' saidCaleb. She was afraid, I know, to hear the bellsring, and couldn't trust herself to be so near themon their wedding-day. So we started in good time,and came here. I have been thinking of what Ihave done,' said Caleb, after a moment's pause, 'Ihave been blaming myself till I hardly knew whatto do or where to turn, for the distress of mind Ihave caused her; and I've come to the conclusion thatbetter, if you'll stay with me, mum, the while,tell her the truth. You'll stay with me the while?'he inquired, trembling from head to foot. 'I don'tknow what effect it may have upon her; I don't knowwhat she'll think of me; I don't know that she'llever care for her poor father afterwards. But it'sbest for her that she should be undeceived, and Imust hear the consequences as I deserve!'

'Mary,' said Bertha, 'where is your hand! Ah!Here it is; here it is!' pressing it to her lips, witha smile, and drawing it through her arm. 'I heardthem speaking softly among themselves, last nightof some blame against you. They were wrong.'The Carrier's Wife was silent. Caleb answeredfor her.

'They were wrong,' he said.

'I knew it!' cried Bertha, proudly. 'I told themso. I scorned to hear a word! Blame her with jus-ice!' she pressed the hand between her own, andthe soft cheek against her face. 'No! I am not soblind as that.'

Her father went on one side of her, while Dotremained upon the other: holding her hand

'I know you all,' said Bertha, 'better than youthink. But none so well as her. Not even you,father. There is nothing half so real and so trueabout me, as she is. If I could be restored to sightthis instant, and not a word were spoken, I couldchoose her from a crowd! My sister!'

'Bertha, my dear!' said Caleb, I have somethingon my mind I want to tell you, while we three arealone. Hear me kindly! I have a confession to maketo you, my darling.'

'A confession, father?'

'I have wandered from the truth and lost myself,my child,' said Caleb, with a pitiable expression inhis bewildered face. 'I have wandered from the truth,intending to be kind to you; and have been cruel.'

She turned her wonder-stricken face towards him,and repeated 'Cruel!'

'He accuses himself too strongly, Bertha,' said Dot.'You'll say so, presently. You'll be the first to tellhim so.'

'He cruel to me!' cried Bertha, with a smile ofincredulity.

'Not meaning it, my child,' said Caleb. 'But Ihave been; though I never suspected it, till yesterday.My dear blind daughter, hear me and forgive me!The world you live in, heart of mine, doesn't existas I have represented it. The eyes you have trustedin, have been false to you.

She turned her wonder-stricken face towards himstill; but drew back, and clung closer to her friend.

'Your road in life was rough, my poor one,' saidCaleb, 'and I meant to smooth it for you. I havealtered objects, changed the characters of people, in-vented many things that never have been to makeyou happier. I have had concealments from you,put deceptions on you, God forgive me! and sur-rounded you with fancies.'

'But living people are not fancies!' she said hur-riedly, and turning very pale, and still retiring fromhim. 'You can't change them.'

'I have done so, Bertha,' pleaded Caleb. 'Thereis one person that you know, my dove --'

'Oh father! why do you say, I know?' she an-swered, in a term of keen reproach. 'What and whomdo I know! I who have no leader! I so miser-ably blind!'

In the anguish of her heart, she stretched out herhands, as if she were groping her way; then spreadthem, in a manner most forlorn and sad, upon herface.

'The marriage that takes place to-day,' said Caleb,'is with a stern, sordid, grinding man. A hard masterto you and me, my dear, for many years. Ugly inhis looks, and in his nature. Cold and callous always.Unlike what I have painted him to you in every-thing, my child. In everything.'

'Oh why,' cried the Blind Girl, tortured, as itseemed, almost beyond endurance, 'why did you everdo this. Why did you ever fill my heart so fulland then come in like Death, and tear away theobjects of my love! O Heaven, how blind I am!How elpless and alone!'

Her afflicted father hug his head, and offered noreply but in his penitence and sorrow.

She had been but a short time in this passion ofregret, when the Cricket on the Hearth, unheard byall but her, began to chirp. Not merrily, but in a low,faint, sorrowing way. It was so mournful that hertears began to flow; and when the Presence whichhad been beside the Carrier all night, appeared behindher, pointing to her father, they fell down like rain.

She heard the Cricket-voice more plainly soon, andwas conscious, through her blindness, of the presencehovering about her father.

'Mary,' said the Blind Girl, 'tell me what my homeis. What it truly is.'

'It is a poor place, Bertha; very poor and bareindeed. The house will scarcely keep out wind andrain another winter. It is as roughly shielded fromthe weather, Bertha' Dot continued in a low, clearvoice, 'as your poor father in his sack-cloth coat.'

The Blind Girl, greatly agitated, rose, and led theCarrier's little wife aside.

'Those presents that I took such care of; that camealmost at my wish, and were so dearly welcome tome,' she said, trembling; 'where did they come from?Did you send them?'

'No.'

'Who then?'

Dot saw she knew, already, and was silent. TheBlind Girl spread her hands before her face again.But in quite another manner now.

'Dear Mary, a moment. One moment? More thisway. Speak softly to me. You are true, I know.You'd not deceive me now; would you?'

'No, Bertha, indeed!'

'No, I am sure you would not. You have too muchpity for me. Mary, look across the room to wherewe were just now -- to where my father is -- my father,so compassionate and loving to me -- and tell mewhat you see.'

'I see,' said Dot, who understood her well, 'an oldman sitting in a chair, and leaning sorrowfully onthe back, with his face resting on his hand. As ifhis child should comfort him, Bertha.'

'Yes, yes. She will. Go on.'

'He is an old man, worn with care and work. Heis a spare, dejected, thoughtful, grey-haired man.I see him now, despondent and bowed down, andstriving against nothing. But, Bertha, I have seenhim many times before, and striving hard in manyways for one great sacred object. And I honourhis grey head, and bless him!'

The Blind Girl broke away from her; and throw-ing herself upon her knees before him, took the greyhead to her breast.

'It is my sight restored. It is my sight!' she criedI have been blind, and now my eyes are open. Inever knew him! To think I might have died, andnever truly seen the father who has been so lovingto me!'

There were no words for Caleb's emotion.

'There is not a gallant figure on this earth,' ex-claimed the Blind Girl, holding him in her embrace,'that I would love so dearly, and would cherish sodevotedly, as this! The greyer, and more worn, thedearer, father! Never let them say I am blind again.There's not a furrow in his face, there's not a hairupon his head, that shall be forgotten in my prayersand thanks to Heaven!'

Caleb managed to articulate 'My Bertha!'

'And in my blindness, I believed him,' said the girlcaressing him with tears of exquisite affection, 'to beso different! And having him beside me, day byday, so mindful of me always, never dreamed of this!'

'The fresh smart father in the blue coat, Bertha,'said poor Caleb. 'He's gone!'

'Nothing is gone,' she answered. 'Dearest father,no! Everything is here -- in you. The father thatI loved so well: the father that I never loved enoughand never knew; the benefactor whom I first beganto reverence and love, because he had such sympathyfor me; All are here in you. Nothing is dead to me.The soul of all that was most dear to me is here --here, with the worn face, and the grey head. And Iam NOT blind, father, any longer!'

Dot's whole attention had been concentrated, dur-ing this discourse, upon the father and daughter; butlooking, now, towards the little Haymaker in theMoorish meadow, she saw that the clock was withina few minutes of striking, and fell, immediately, intoa nervous and excited state.

'Father,' said Bertha, hesitating. 'Mary.'

'Yes my dear,' retumed Caleb. 'Here she is.'

'There is no change in her. You never told meanything of her that was not true?'

'I should have done it my dear, I am afraid,' re-turned Caleb, 'if I could have made her better thanshe was. But I must have changed her for the worse,if I had changed her at all. Nothing could improveher, Bertha.'

Confident as the Blind Girl had been when sheasked the question, her delight and pride in the re-ply and her renewed embrace of Dot, were charmingto behold.

'More changes than you think for, may happenthough, my dear,' said Dot. 'Changes for the better,I mean; changes for great joy to some of us. Youmustn't let them startle you too much, if any suchshould ever happen, and affect you. Are those wheelsupon the road? You've a quick ear, Bertha. Arethey wheels?'

'Yes. Coming very fast.'

'I-I-I know you have a quick ear,' said Dot,placing her hand upon her heart, and evidently talk-ing on, as fast as she could, to hide its palpitatingstate, 'because I have noticed it often, and becauseyou were so quick to find out that strange step lastnight. Though why you should have said, as I verywell recollect you did say, Bertha, "Whose step isthat!" and why you should have taken any greaterobservation of it than of any other step, I don't know.Though as I said just now, there are great changesin the world: great changes: and we can't do betterthan prepare ourselves to be surprised at hardlyanything.'

Caleb wondered what this meant; perceiving thatshe spoke to him, no less than to his daughter. Hesaw her, with astonishment, so fluttered and distressedthat she could scarcely breathe; and holding to achair, to save herself from falling.

'They are wheels indeed!' she panted. 'Comingnearer! Nearer! Very close! And now you hearthem stopping at the garden-gate! And now youhear a step outside the door -- the same step, Bertha,is it not! -- and now!' --

She uttered a wild cry of uncontrollable delight;and running up to Caleb put her hands upon his eyesas a young man rushed into the room, and flingingaway his hat into the air, came sweeping down uponthem.

'Is it over?' cried Dot.

'Yes!'

'Happily over?'

'Yes!'

'Do you recollect the voice, dear Caleb? Did youever hear the like of it before?' cried Dot.

'If my boy in the Golden South Americas wasalive -- said Caleb, trembling.

'He is alive!' shrieked Dot, removing her handfrom his eyes, and clapping them in ecstasy; 'look athim! See where he stands before you, healthy andloving brother, Bertha!'

All honour to the little creature for her transports!All honour to her tears and laughter, when the threewere locked in one another's arms! All honour to theheartiness with which she met the sunburnt sailor-fellow, with his dark streaming hair, half way, andnever turned her rosy little mouth aside, but sufferedhim to kiss it, freely, and to press her to his bound-ing heart!

And honour to the Cuckoo too -- why not! -- forbursting out of the trap-door in the Moorish Palacelike a housebreaker, and hiccoughing twelve times onthe assembled company, as if he had got drunkfor joy!

The Carrier, entering, started back. And well hemight, to find himself in such good company.

'Look, John!' said Caleb, exultingly, 'look here!My own boy from the Golden South Americas! Myown son! Him that you fitted out, and sent awayyourself! Him that you were always such a friend to!'

The Carrier advanced to seize him by the hand;but, recoiling, as some feature in his face awakeneda remembrance of the Deaf Man in the Cart, said:

'Edward! Was it you?'

'Now tell him all!' cried Dot. 'Tell him all, Ed-ward; and don't spare me, for nothing shall make mespare myself in his eyes, ever again.'

'I was the man,' said Edward.

'And could you steal, disguised, into the house ofyour old friend?' rejoined the Carrier. 'There was afrank boy once -- how many years is it, Caleb, sincewe heard that he was dead, and had it proved, wethought? -- who never would have done that.'

'There was a generous friend of mine, once; morea father to me than a friend'; said Edward, 'whonever would have judged me, or any other man,unheard. You were he. So I am certain you willhear me now.'

The Carrier, with a troubled glance at Dot, whostill kept far away from him, replied 'Well! that'sbut fair. I will.'

'You must know that when I left here, a boy,' saidEdward, 'I was in love, and my love was returned.She was a very young girl, who perhaps (you maytell me) didn't know her own mind. But I knewmine, and I had a passion for her.'

'You had!' exclaimed the Carrier. 'You!'

'Indeed I had,' returned the other. 'And she re-turned it. I have ever since believed she did, andnow I am sure she did.'

'Heaven help me!' said the Carrier. 'This is worsethan all.'

'Constant to her,' said Edward, 'and returning, fullof hope, after many hardships and perils, to redeemmy part of our old contract, I heard, twenty milesaway, that she was false to me; that she had forgottenme; and had bestowed herself upon another and aricher man. I had no mind to reproach her; but Iwished to see her, and to prove beyond dispute tbatthis was true. I hoped she might have been forcedinto it, against her own desire and recollection. Itwould be small comfort, but it would be some, Ithought, and on I came. That I might have thetruth, the real truth; observing freely for myself, andjudging for myself, without obstruction on the onehand, or presenting my own influence (if I had any)before her, on the other; I dressed myself unlike my-self -- you know how; and waited on the road -- youknow where. You had no suspicion of me; neitherhad -- had she,' pointing to Dot, 'until I whispered inher ear at that fireside, and she so nearly betrayedme.'

'But when she knew that Edward was alive, andhad come back,' sobbed Dot, now speaking for her-self, as she had burned to do, all through this narra-tive; 'and when she knew his purpose, she advised himby all means to keep his secret close; for his old friendJohn Peerybingle was much too open in his nature,and too clumsy in all artifice -- being a clumsy manin general,' said Dot, half laughing and half crying-- to keep it for him. And when she -- that's me,John,' sobbed the little woman -- 'told him all, and howhis sweetheart had believed him to be dead; and howshe had at last been over-persuaded by her motherinto a marriage which the silly, dear old thing calledadvantageous; and when she -- that's me again, John --told him they were not yet married (though closeupon it), and that it would be nothing but a sacrificeif it went on, for there was no love on her side; andwhen he went nearly mad with joy to hear it; thenshe -- that's me again -- said she would go betweenthem, as she had often done before in old times, John,and would sound his sweetheart and be sure that whatshe -- me again, John -- said and thought was right.And it WAS right, John! And they were brought to-gether, John. And they were married, John, an hourago! And here's the Bride! And Gruff and Tackle-ton may die a bachelor! And I'm a happy littlewoman, May, God bless you!'

She was an irresistible little woman, if that be any-thing to the purpose; and never so completely irre-sistible as in her present transports. There neverwere congratulations so endearing and delicious, asthose she lavished on herself and on the Bride.

Amid the tumult of emotions in his breast, thehonest Carrier had stood, confounded. Flying, now,towards her, Dot stretched out her hand to stop him,and retreated as before.

'No John, no! Hear all! Don't love me any more,John, till you've heard every word I have to say.It was wrong to have a secret from you, John. I'mvery sorry. I didn't think it any harm, till I cameand sat down by you on the little stool last night.But when I knew by what was written in your face,that you had seen me walking in the gallery withEdward, and when I knew what you thought, I felthow giddy and how wrong it was. But oh, dearJohn, how could you, could you, think so!'

Little woman, how she sobbed again! John Peery-bingle would have caught her in his arms. But no;she wouldn't let him.

'Don't love me yet, please John! Not for a longtime yet! When I was sad about this intended mar-riage, dear, it was because I remembered May andEdward such young lovers; and knew that her heartwas far away from Tackleton. You believe that,now. Don't you John?'

John was going to make another rush at this ap-peal; but she stopped him again.

'No; keep there, please John! When I laugh atyou, as I sometimes do, John, and call you clumsyand a dear old goose, and names of that sort, it's be-cause I love you John, so well, and take such pleasurein your ways, and wouldn't see you altered in theleast respect to have you made a King to-morrow

'Hooroar!' said Caleb with unusual vigour. 'Myopinion!'

'And when I speak of people being middle-agedand steady, John, and pretend that we are a humdrumcouple, going on in a jog-trot sort of way, it's onlybecause I'm such a silly little thing, John, that I likesometimes, to act a kind of Play with Baby, and allthat: and make believe.'

She saw that he was coming; and stopped himagain. But she was very nearly too late.

'No, don't love me for another minute or two, ifyou please John! What I want most to tell you, Ihave kept to the last. My dear, good, generous, Johnwhen we were talking the other night about theCricket, I had it on my lips to say, that at first I didnot love you quite so dearly as I do now; that when Ifirst came home here, I was half afraid I mightn'tlearn to love you every bit as well as I hoped andprayed I might -- being so very young, John! But,dear John, every day and hour I loved you more andmore. And if I could have loved you better than Ido, the noble words I heard you say this morning,would have made me. But I can't. All the affec-tion that I had (it was a great deal John) I gave you,as you well deserve, long, long ago, and I have nomore left to give. Now, my dear husband, take meto your heart again! That's my home, John; andnever, never think of sending me to any other!'

You never will derive so much delight from seeinga glorious little woman in the arms of a third partyas you would have felt if you had seen Dot run intothe Carrier's embrace. It was the most complete, un-mitigated, soul-fraught little piece of earnestness thatever you beheld in all your days.

You may be sure the Carrier was in a state of per-fect rapture; and you may be sure Dot was likewise;and you may be sure they all were, incluslve of MissSlowboy, who wept copiously for joy, and wishingto include her younger charge in the general inter-change of congratulations, handed round the Babyto everybody in succession, as if it were something todrink.

But, now, the sound of wheels was heard again out-aide the door; and somebody exclaimed that Gruff andTackleton was coming back. Speedily that worthygentleman appeared, looking warm and flustered.

'Why, what the Devil's this, John Peerybingle.'said Tackleton. 'There's some mistake. I appointedMrs. Tackleton to meet me at the church, and I'llswear I passed her on the road, on her way here.Oh! here she is! I beg your pardon, sir; I haven'tthe pleasure of knowing you; but if you can do methe favour to spare this young lady, she has rather aparticular engagement this morning.'

'But I can't spare her,' returned Edward. 'Icouldn't think of it.'

'What do you mean, you vagabond? saidTackleton.

'I mean, that as I can make allowance for yourbeing vexed,' returned the other, with a smile, 'I amas deaf to harsh discourse this morning, as I was toall discourse last night.'

The look that Tackleton bestowed upon him, andthe start he gave!

'I am sorry, sir,' said Edward, holding out May'sleft hand, and especially the third finger; 'that theyoung lady can't accompany you to church; but asshe has been there once, this morning, perhaps you'llexcuse her.'

Tackleton looked hard at the third finger, and tooka little piece of silver paper, apparently containing aring, from his waistcoat-pocket.

'Miss Slowboy,' said Tackleton. 'Will you havethe kindness to throw that in the fire? Thank'ee.'

'It was a previous engagement, quite an old engage-ment, that prevented my wife from keeping her ap-pointment with you, I assure you,' said Edward

'Mr. Tackleton will do me the justice to acknowl-edge that I revealed it to him faithfully; and that Itold him, many times, I never could forget it,' saidMay, blushing.

'Oh certainly!' said Tackleton. 'Oh to be sure.Oh it's all right. It's quite correct. Mrs. EdwardPlummer, I infer?'

'That's the name,' returned the bridegroom

'Ah, I shouldn't have known you, sir,' said Tackle-ton, scrutinising his face narrowly, and making a lowbow. I give you joy, sir!'

'Thank ee.'

'Mrs. Peerybingle,' said Tackleton, turning sud-denly to where she stood with her husband; 'I amsorry. You haven't done me a very great kindnessbut, upon my life, I am sorry. You are better thanI thought you. John Peerybingle, I am sorry. Youunderstand me; that's enough. It's quite correctladies and gentlemen all, and perfectly satisfactory.Good-morning!'

With these words he carried it off, and carried him-self off too: merely stopping at the door, to take theflowers and favours from his horse's head, and to kickthat animal once, in the ribs, as a means of informinghim that there was a screw loose in his arrangements.

Of course it became a serious duty now, to makesuch a day of it, as should mark these events for ahigh Feast and Festival in the Peerybingle Calendarfor evermore. Accordingly, Dot went to work toproduce such an entertainment, as should reflect un-dying honour on the house and on every one con-cerned; and in a very short space of time, she was upto her dimpled elbows in flour, and whitening theCarrier's coat, every time he came near her, by stop-ping him to give him a kiss. That good fellow washedthe greens, and peeled the turnips, and broke theplates, and upset iron pots full of cold water on thefire, and made himself useful in all sorts of ways:while a couple of professional assistants, hastilycalled in from somewhere in the neighbourhood, as ona point of life or death, ran against each other in allthe doorways and round all the corners, and every-body tumbled over Tilly Slowboy and the Baby,everywhere. Tilly never came out in such force be-fore. Her ubiquity was the theme of general admir-ation. She was a stumbling-block in the passage atfive-and-twenty minutes past two; a man-trap in thekitchen at half-past two precisely; and a pitfall inthe garret at five-and-twenty minutes to three. TheBaby's head was, is it were, a test and touchstone forevery description of matter, -- animal, vegetable, andmineral. Nothing was in use that day that didn'tcome, at some time or other, into close acquaintaincewith it.

Then, there was a great Expedition set on foot togo and find out Mrs. Fielding; and to be dismallypenitent to that excellent gentlewoman; and to bringher back, by force, if needful, to be happy and for-giving. And when the Expedition first discovered her,she would listen to no terms at all, but said, an un-speakable number of times, that ever she should havelived to see the day! and couldn't be got to say any-thing else, except, 'Now carry me to the grave': whichseemed absurd, on account of her not being dead, oranything at all like it. After a time, she lapsed intoa state of dreadful calmness, and observed, that whenthat unfortunate train of circumstances had occurredin the Indigo Trade, she had foreseen that she wouldbe exposed, during her whole life, to every species ofinsult and contumely; and that she was glad to findit was the case; and begged they wouldn't troublethemselves about her, -- for what was she? oh, dear!a nobody! -- but would forget that such a being livedand would take their course in life without her. Fromthis bitterly sarcastic mood, she passed into an angryone, in which she gave vent to the remarkable expres-sion that the worm would turn if trodden on; andafter that, she yielded to a soft regret, and said, ifthey had only given her their confidence, what mightshe not have had it in her power to suggest! Takingadvantage of this crisis in her feelings, the Expedi-tion embraced her, and she very soon had her gloveson, and was on her way to John Peerybingle's in astate of unimpeachable gentility; with a paper parcelat her side containing a cap of state, almost as tall,and quite as stiff, as a mitre.

Then, there were Dot's father and mother to come,in another little chaise; and they were behind theirtime; and fears were entertained; and there was muchlooking out for them down the road; and Mrs. Field-ing always would look in the wrong and morally im-possible direction; and being apprised thereof, hopedshe might take the liberty of looking where shepleased. At last they came: a chubby little couple,jogging along in a snug and comfortable little waythat quite belonged to the Dot family; and Dot andher mother, side by side, were wonderful to see. Theywere so like each other.

Then, Dot's mother had to renew her acquaintancewith May's mother; and May's mother always stoodon her gentility; and Dot's mother never stood onanything but her active little feet. And old Dot -- soto call Dot's father, I forgot it wasn't his right name,but never mind -- took liberties, and shook hands atfirst sight, and seemed to think a cap but so muchstarch and muslin, and didn't defer himself at all tothe Indigo Trade, but said there was no help for itnow; and in Mrs. Fielding's summing up, was a good-natured kind of man -- but coarse, my dear.

I woudn't have missed Dot, doing the honours inher wedding-gown, my benison on her bright face! forany money. No! nor the good Carrier, so jovial andso ruddy, at the bottom of the table. Nor the brown,fresh, sailor-fellow, and his handsome wife. Nor anyone among them. To have missed the dinner wouldhave been to miss as jolly and as stout a meal asman need eat; and to have missed the overflowingcups in which they drank The Wedding-Day, wouldhave been the greatest miss of all.

After dinner, Caleb sang the song about the Spark-ling Bowl. As I'm a living man, hoping to keep so,for a year or two, he sang it through.

And, by the bye, a most unlooked-for incident oc-curred, just as he finished the last verse.

There was a tap at the door; and a man came stag-gering in, without saying with your leave, or by yourleave, with something heavy on his head. Settingthis down in the middle of the table, symmetricallyin the centre of the nuts and apples, he said:

'Mr. Tackleton's compliments, and as he hasn't got.no use for the cake himself, p'raps you'll eat it.'

And with those words, he walked off.

There was some surprise among the company, asyou may imagine. Mrs. Fielding, being a lady ofinfinite discernment, suggested that the cake waspoisoned, and related a narrative of a cake, which,within her knowledge, had turned a seminary foryoung ladies, blue. But she was overruled by ac-clamation; and the cake was cut by May, with muchceremony and rejoicing.

I don't think any one had tasted it, when therecame another tap at the door, and the same man ap-peared again, having under his arm a vast brown-paper parcel.

'Mr. Tackleton's compliments, and he's sent a fewtoys for the Babby. They ain't ugly.'

After the delivery of which expressions, he retiredagain.

The whole party would have experienced greatdifficulty in finding words for their astonishment, evenif they had had ample time to seek them. But, theyhad none at all; for, the messenger had scarcely shutthe door behind him, when there came another tapand Tackleton himself walked in.

'Mrs. Peerybingle!' said the Toy-merchant, hat inhand. 'I'm sorry. I'm more sorry than I was thismorning. I have had time to think of it. John Peery-bingle! I'm sour by disposition; but I can't helpbeing sweetened, more or less, by coming face toface with such a man as you. Caleb! This uncon-scious little nurse gave me a broken hint last nightof which I have found the thread. I blush to thinkhow easily I might have bound you and your daugh-ter to me, and what a miserable idiot I was, when Itook her for one! Friends, one and all, my house isvery lonely to-night. I have not so much as a Cricketon my Hearth. I have scared them all away. Begracious to me; let me join this happy party!'

He was at home in five minutes. You never sawsuch a fellow. What had he been doing with himselfall his life, never to have known, before, his great ca-pacity of being jovial! Or what had the fairies beendoing with him, to have effected such a change!

'John! you won't send me home this evening; willyou?' whispered Dot.

He had been very near it though!

There wanted but one living creature to make theparty complete; and, in the twinkling of an eye, therehe was, very thirsty with hard running, and engagedin hopeless endeavours to squeeze his head into a nar-row pitcher. He had gone with the cart to its jour-ney's end, very much disgusted with the absence of hismaster, and stupendously rebellious to the Deputy.After lingering about the stable for some little time,vainly attempting to incite the old horse to the muti-nous act of returning on his own account, he hadwalked into the tap-room and laid himself down be-fore the fire. But suddenly yielding to the convic-tion that the Deputy was a humbug, and must beabandoned, he had got up again, turned tail, andcome home.

There was a dance in the evening. With whichgeneral mention of that recreation, I should have leftit alone, if I had not some reason to suppose that itwas quite an original dance, and one of a most uncom-mon figure. It was formed in an odd way; in thisway.

Edward, that sailor-fellow -- a good free dashingsort of a fellow he was -- had been telling them variousmarvels concerning parrots, and mines, and Mexicans,and gold dust, when all at once he took it in his headto jump up from his seat and propose a dance; forBertha's harp was there, and she had such a handupon it as you seldom hear. Dot (sly little piece ofaffectation when she chose) said her dancing dayswere over; I think because the Carrier was smokinghis pipe, and she liked sitting by him, best. Mrs.Fielding had no choice, of course, but to say her danc-ing days were over, after that; and everybody saidthe same, except May; May was ready.

So, May and Edward get up, amid great applause,to dance alone; and Bertha plays her liveliest tune.

Well! if you'll believe me, they have not been danc-ing five minutes, when suddenly the Carrier flings hispipe away, takes Dot round the waist, dashes out intothe room, and starts off with her, toe and heel, quitewonderfully. Tackleton no sooner sees this, than heskims across to Mrs. Fielding, takes her round thewaist, and follows suit. Old Dot no sooner sees this,than up he is, all alive, whisks off Mrs. Dot in themiddle of the dance, and is the foremost there. Calebno sooner sees this, than he clutches Tilly Slowboy byboth hands and goes off at score; Miss Slowboy, firmin the belief that diving hotly in among the othercouples, and effecting any number of concussions witbthem, is your only principle of footing it.

Hark! how the Cricket joins the music with itsChirp, Chirp, Chirp; and how the kettle hums!

* * * * * * * *

But what is this! Even as I listen to them, blithelyand turn towards Dot, for one last glimpse of a little,figure very pleasant to me, she and the rest have van-ished into air, and I am left alone. A Cricket singsupon the Hearth; a broken child's-toy lies upon theground; and nothing else remains.