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ruefulness； as Mr。 Grimwig disappeared with the two old woman—
”I hope that this unfortunate little circumstance will not deprive
me of my porochial office？”
“Indeed it will；” replied Mr。 Brownlow。 “You may make up your
mind to that； and think yourself well off besides。”
“It was all Mrs。 Bumble。—She would do it；” urged Mr。 Bumble；
first looking round to ascertain that his partner had left the room。
“That is no excuse；” replied Mr。 Brownlow。 “You were present
on the occasion of the destruction of these trinkets； and indeed are
the more guilty of the two； in the eye of the law； for the law
supposes that your wife acts under your direction。”
“If the law supposes that；” said Mr。 Bumble； squeezing his hat
emphatically in both hands； “the law is a ass—a idiot。 If that’s the
eye of the law； the law is a bachelor； and the worst I wish the law
is； that his eye may be opened by experience—by experience。”
Laying great stress on the repetition of these two words； Mr。
Bumble fixed his hat on very tight； and putting his hands in his
pockets； followed his helpmate downstairs。
“Young lady；” said Mr。 Brownlow； turning to Rose； “give me
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your hand。 Do not tremble。 You need not fear to hear the few
remaining words I have to say。”
“If they have—I do not know how they can； but if they have any
reference to me；” said Rose； “pray let me hear them at some other
time。 I have not strength or spirits now。”
“Nay；” returned the old gentleman； drawing her arm through
his； “you have more fortitude than this； I am sure。 Do you know
this young lady； sir？”
“Yes；” replied Monks。
“I never saw you before；” said Rose faintly。
“I have seen you often；” returned Monks。
“The father of the unhappy Agnes had two daughters；” said Mr。
Brownlow。 “What was the fate of the other—the child？”
“The child；” replied Monks； “when her father died in a strange
place； in a strange name； without a letter； book； or scrap of paper
that yielded the faintest clue by which his friends or relatives
could be traced—the child was taken by some wretched cottagers；
who reared it as their own。”
“Go on；” said Mr。 Brownlow； sighing to Mrs。 Maylie to
approach。 “Go on！”
“You couldn’t find the spot to which these people had
repaired；” said Monks； “but where friendship fails； hatred will
often force a way。 My mother found it； after a year of cunning
search—ay； and found the child。”
“She took it； did she？”
“No。 The people were poor and began to sicken—at least the
man did—of their fine humanity； so she left it with them； giving
them a small present of money which would not last long； and
promising more； which she never meant to send。 She didn’t quite
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rely； however； on their discontent and poverty for the child’s
unhappiness； but told the history of her sister’s shame； with such
alterations as suited her； bade them take good heed of the child；
for she came of bad blood； and told them she was illegitimate； and
sure to go wrong at one time or other。 The circumstances
countenanced all this； the people believed it； and there the child
dragged on an existence； miserable enough even to satisfy us； until
a widow lady； residing； then； at Chester； saw the girl by chance；
pitied her； and took her home。 There was some cursed spell； I
think； against us； for in spite of all our efforts she remained there
and was happy。 I lost sight of her； two or three years ago； and saw
her no more until a few months back。”
“Do you see her now？”
“Yes。 Leaning on your arm。”
“But not the less my niece；” cried Mrs。 Maylie； folding the
fainting girl in her arms； “not the less my dearest child。 I would
not lose her now； for all the treasures of the world。 My sweet
companion； my own dear girl！”
“The only friend I ever had；” cried Rose； clinging to her。 “The
kindest； best of friends。 My heart will burst； I cannot bear all this。”
“You have borne more； and have been through all； the best and
gentlest creature that ever shed happiness on every one she
knew；” said Mrs。 Maylie； embracing her tenderly。 “Come； come；
my love； remember who this is who waits to clasp you in his arms；
poor child！ See here—look； look； my dear！”
“Not aunt；” cried Oliver； throwing his arms about her neck； “I’ll
never call her aunt—sister； my own dear sister； that something
taught my heart to love so dearly from the first！ Rose； dear； darling
Rose！”
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Let the tears which fell； and the broken words which were
exchanged in the long； close embrace between the orphans； be
sacred。 A father； sister； and mother； were gained； and lost； in that
one moment。 Joy and grief were mingled in the cup； but there
were no bitter tears； for even grief itself arose so softened； and
clothed in such sweet and tender recollections； that it became a
solemn pleasure； and lost all character of pain。
They were a long； long time alone。 A soft tap at the door； at
length announced that some one was without。 Oliver opened it；
glided away； and gave place to Harry Maylie。
“I know it all；” he said； taking a seat beside the lovely girl。
“Dear Rose； I know it all。”
“I am not here by accident；” he added； after a lengthened
silence； “nor have I heard all this tonight； but I knew it
yesterday—only yesterday。 Do you guess that I have come to
remind you of a promise？”
“Stay；” said Rose。 “You do know all。”
“All。 You gave me leave； at any time within a year； to renew the
subject of our last discourse。”
“I did。”
“Not to press you to alter your determination；” pursued the
young man； “but to hear you repeat it； if you would。 I was to lay
whatever of station or fortune I might possess at your feet； and if
you still adhered to your former determination； I pledged myself；
by no word or act； to seek to change it。”
“The same reasons which influenced me then； will influence me
now；” said Rose firmly。 “If I ever owed a strict and rigid duty to
her； whose goodness saved me from a life of indigence and
suffering； when should I ever feel it； as I should tonight？ It is a
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struggle；” said Rose； “but one I am proud to make； it is a pang； but
one my heart shall bear。”
“The disclosure of tonight—” Harry began。
“The disclosure of tonight；” replied Rose softly； “leaves me in
the same position； with reference to you； as that in which I stood
before。”
“You harden your heart against me； Rose；” urged her lover。
“Oh； Harry； Harry；” said the young lady； bursting into tears； “I
wish I could； and spare myself this pain。”
“Then why inflict it on yourself？” said Harry； taking her hand。
“Think； dear Rose； think what you have heard tonight。”
“And what have I heard？ What have I heard？” cried Rose。
“That a sense of his deep disgrace so worked upon my own father
that he shunned all There； we have said enough； Harry； we have
said enough。”
“Not yet； not yet；” said the young man； detaining her as she
rose。 “My hopes； my wishes； prospects； feeling—every thought in
life except my love for you—have undergone a change。 I offer you；
now； no distinction among a bustling crowd； no mingling with a
world of malice and detraction where the blood is called into
honest cheeks by aught but real disgrace and shame； but a home—
a heart and home—yes； dearest Rose； and those； and those alone；
are all I have to offer。”
“What do you mean？” she faltered。
“I mean but this—that when I left you last； I left you； with a
firm determination to level all fancied barriers between yourself
and me； resolved that if my world could not be yours； I would
make yours mine； that no pride of birth should curl the lip at you；
for I would turn from it。 This I have done。 Those who have shrunk
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