Ah! as Craggsbridge used to say, 'Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.' "

Emma started at the name of Craggsbridge. Oh, how much did it recall to her memory! Her dear parents. Her happy home with Alice and Mr. Ridly, her love for Julius, her hopes, those sweet spring-flowers with which the young imagination decks life's rugged highway, those flowers that wither one by one as we journey onward. Did Emma regret her marriage with Julius? No; there is a love in woman's heart with root so strong that even cruelty will fail to tear it out.

The letter was finished. Julius, read the trembling scrawl at the contents of which he pished and pshawed and shrugged his shoulders significantly.

"Well, will it do?" said Emma, almost dreading a reply. "You may send it if you like; I didn't pen the humiliating rubbish."

'Oh, Julius! it is for our little ones that I am begging!" cried Emma, clasping her thin hands and raising her pure face imploringly were it not for them I should pray

pray to die."

Here, give me the letter, and I'll post it." "You are not angry with me!".

"Tut! give me the letter!"

CHAPTER XI.

"MIND the stairs, Hor'," cried a merry, musical voice "Which door did you say, my good woman?"

"The fust to the left," was the answer.

"Thank you !"

Mrs. Honeybun knocked at the first door, as directed. "Come in," said a faint voice.

"Bless me! in bed ?" exclaimed Mrs. Honeybun, as she rushed into Emma's apartment.

"Oh, dear! go back, Hor'-go back! poor Mrs. Cave is in bed, and you can't come in."

"Yes, yes, he may," gasped Emma. "I am very ill, and can't get up. I-I-God bless you for coming to me! I am overpowered-I never expected this !"

"Come in, Hor'," said Mrs. Honeybun, "and walk gently, for poor, dear Mrs. Cave is very ill, and shockingly nervous. Where is your husband ?--and where are the precious little ones ?"

"Gone out to "

"To what? I must hear about all your troubles," said Mrs. Honeybun. "I have such lots of news to tell you concerning myself. Now, what's your husband gone out to do?"

Emma pointed to her left hand in significant silence.

"Good gracious! I never heard of such a thing except in Isabella or the Fatal Marriage.' Oh, Hor', just fancy being forced to sell or pawn one's wedding-ring! Never mind, we'll get it back for you. Oh, we have had such good fortune!"

"You are in mourning," remarked Emma.

"Yes, but our hearts are not so," laughed Mrs. Honey

bun.

66

Leonora, you are chattering away, and never asking what you can do for Mrs. Cave," said Mr. Honeybun.

"Oh, you dear, good, thoughtful creature!" said she. "You know what a silly noddle sits on my shoulders, don't you? Well," she continued, addressing Emma, "what can we send for that will do you good, and make you well again ?"

66 Send the woman whom we talked to down stairs for a cooked fowl and some wine," whispered Mr. Honeybun. "And some bread, noodle; you are forgetting the staff of life."

Mrs. Honeybun left the room, but returned after the absence of a few moments. She had given the landlady a sovereign, and desired her to send directly for the requisite refreshments.

"How is it you are in Scarborough ?" inquired Emma. "I looked for an answer to my letter, 'tis true, but never dreamed of receiving such a response as this."

"Oh, Hor'! tell her all," said Mrs. Honeybun.

66

What, from beginning to end ?" asked he.

"Yes; now, go on, dear, and don't exaggerate, my love." That, my dearest Leonora, will not admit of any exaggeration."

"There! he's just the old thing, you see, Mrs. Cave," said the happy wife; "not a bit of difference in me either, is there, Hor'?"

He smiled affectionately, and she continued—

"I meant, my dear, when I spoke of exaggeration, that you were to tell our story in the simplest words."

"I know, my darling-I know, but I must have my joke." "Of course you must, Hor', dear, and you shall. Now begin."

"Here's the wine, I suppose," said Mr. Honeybun, rising and opening the door.

"Yes, and some biscuits, I hope," said Mrs. Honeybun, jumping up, and uncovering the tray brought by the woman. "All right! we shall have the fowl by and by, eh ?"

The woman answered in the affirmative, and bustled away. Now, a glass of wine and a biscuit for Mrs. Cave, and then for our story," said Mrs. Honeybun.

"I am most anxious to hear it," returned Emma.

There, Hor'; don't you hear? She is most anxious to listen to our romantic narrative."

"Indeed I am," said Emma.

Well, when I was a boy at school-I must commence my history from the time I was at school, eh, Leonora ?" "Oh, certainly; the details are too interesting-at least, so I think-to be cut or curtailed, as we do our bad parts in stupid plays."

"Very well, Leonora," submitted the good man, "when I was a boy at school, my mother died, and my father, who was a doctor-you may have heard of a Doctor Honeybun, Mrs. Cave?"

"Never mind whether she has or not, my dear Hor'; if you go on halting after this fashion, you will never advance."

66

"And my father, who was a doctor," resumed he, married again."

"Oh," interrupted Mrs. Honeybun; "I do think marry

ing a second time quite shocking. Hor', if I die first, you must continue a widower; I shouldn't rest in my grave if you took a second wife !"

"Leonora, I shall have to begin my recital all over again if you persist in these interruptions."

"Well, dear, I beg a thousand pardons."

"Married again," continued Mr. Honeybun; "and when I went home for the holidays, I found that things were not as they used to be.”

"Of course not."

"Leonora !"

Mrs. Honeybun put her hand over her mouth, and her husband proceeded

"My stepmother found fault with everything I did, and perpetually scolded me."

"Cross old thing!" muttered Mrs. Honeybun.

Her husband looked up reprovingly, and she coughed in her handkerchief.

"And perpetually scolded me," repeated Mr. Honeybun, taking up the dropped link of his story. "Well, holiday after holiday I visited my home, and on each of those visits I found my stepmother more and more disagreeable. At last an open rupture took place; I quarrelled with her, and ran away from home."

"Hadn't he a spirit?" exclaimed Mrs. Honeybun.

"I was only sixteen when I ran away from home, with two pounds-my last quarter's allowance of pocket-moneyin my purse. Of course I didn't know what I should do, or even in what direction I should turn my footsteps. It so happened that in the first town I reached there was a company of players. I had always been extremely fond of the drama, and when in London, where my father lived, I had esteemed a night at Drury-lane or the Haymarket theatres as the greatest treat London could afford. However, to make a long story short, I got introduced to this company of players, and being a smart figure, they permitted me to go on and deliver a few lines. I performed my part so well that they gave me another of greater importance. Thus I advanced in public favour, while my purse emptied, and my wardrobe disappeared piece after piece. One day I took courage, and confided to the manager my situation, and also my desire of

adopting the stage as a profession. Well, I became an actor, and very tranquilly the years passed on, for I was pleased with my duties, and my taskmaster was indulgent, easy, and kind. I was now twenty. We were acting in Brighton""Now listen, Mrs. Cave!" cried Mrs. Honeybun; "for here begins the most interesting part of the relation."

"One evening there was a special performance, under the immediate patronage of all the boarding-schools in the place. I on that occasion played some sort of unfortunate fellow who was out of luck and out at elbows at the same time, who was in terrible want of a dinner, and didn't know where to get one. I believe I cut a most deplorable figure in the part, and created considerable sympathy for my supposed starving condition. On the very next day a hamper, directed to Horatio Honeybun, Esq., was left at the stage-door of the theatre. I examined the card of address, which was written in a neat, lady-like hand, and wondered exceedingly who could have sent the hamper. I went on speculating as to its contents, instead of at once opening the lid and finding out. At last I got a lad to carry the mysterious basket to my lodgings, whither I followed, anxious to inspect my present. As I stood, knife in hand, ready to sever the cords which fastened the lid, I paused in doubt: was it an infant, or a portion of a murdered body, that lay concealed under those plaited twigs? I had heard of such shocking events as babies or mangled limbs being sent in hampers, and perhaps I had been chosen as a victim by some miserable mother or sanguinary murderer. I flung the knife down in a state of nervous terror, and paced the room for a few moments; at length I desperate, and with a trembling hand I cut the cords, tore open the lid, to look upon-a neat layer of hay! I heard no breathing, I marked no motion, I could smell nothing but the fresh hay. Come, I said, gaining confidence, there appears to be nothing mischievous here, so I'll risk a further examination. With these words I removed the hay, and discovered three bottles of wine, a large pie, a bag of gingerbread nuts, a paper of sugar-candy, and a letter written on pink paper and sealed with red wax. 'Dear sir,' commenced the epistle,pray excuse the liberty I take in forwarding to you this little present; I am sorry for your povertyvery sorry; it is so wretched to be hungry, I think; and I've

grew