Most of all, however, was this remarkable cast of countenance observable, when he glanced up at his father; and the reverence, the passionate admiration that was written in that look, betrayed an intense sensibility of nature. The father, however, did not seem to see this; he was thinking of other things.

For a few minutes he seemed lost in the most painful rumination; then he sighed and turned away from the bed.

"You must have fire this dreadful night," he said, turning to Cornelly. "How came you to be without it? - Nay," correcting himself, "I know how you came to be without it but why did you not send to me?"

"Your lordship has done so much - and there are so many." A slightly sarcastic smile passed over the gentleman's face when addressed by this title.

"Nay, Cornelly, no lordships here. I am a poor silk weaver like the rest of you; but as long as I have two loaves and you but one why -"

"I know it I know it: but how long will the Seigneur du Chastel have two loaves?" was Cornelly's reply.

"So long as God pleases, and not a day longer, my good friend. But at present it is not a matter of bread, but of fire, which in this weather is almost more needful than bread. Say, where is the nearest place one can get wood and coal?"

"There is a coal-seller in the court at the back of the house," said Cornelly, "if he has any provision by him but I doubt it; the small vendors, like the

small purchasers, are mostly in the same case." I now stepped forward.

"I am sent by an excellent lady, Mrs. G. V.," I said, "to examine into your most pressing wants, and supply them. The night is bitterly cold, and you are but thinly clad. If you will direct me to the place, I will myself go to the coal-man's, and send in what you may want. With the remainder of the money I have in charge - shall I order meat or bread?"

"You are very kind, sir. But do not let me give you trouble."

"Perhaps you would better like to have the money at once?" said I.

"Not that

and yet..." and his eyes glanced almost ravenously, if I may use the expression, at the I saw that money

few shillings I had in my hand

was more to him than food or fire.

"Is it so?" I said, looking significantly at him.

"It is."

"But," put in Mr. du Chastel, "your wife is perishing with cold and hunger."

"Better die here, than upon the stones of the street."

"How?"

"My landlord, sir - he is impatient - he is not "ruel," he added, gently, "he is very poor; poverty

per

makes a man raven like a wolf, unless the grace of God prevent him. It is not so much that I fear him haps my prayers and my wife's tears might prevail but I know he is in want, and what is he to do? All are in the same case - he gets nothing from any of us. It is a sore temptation, his children are crying for bread and fire, like the rest. He thinks, perhaps, if he turns a wretched family into the street, somehow or other somebody will make up the rent. This which I hold in my hand," shewing the shillings which I had given him, "will provide him for the present. It is his I owe it him. I have no right to what is not mine. Thank you, sir thank you; and may God's blessing reward that excellent lady, for she has done a deed that is twice blessed this night."

"Cornelly," said Mr. du Chastel, with some severity,

"why has all this been hidden from me?"

pay the

"Because you shall not, for you cannot rents of the whole street; and why me more than the rest?" was Cornelly's reply. "No, Monseigneur, I will not be the accursed one to dry up the spring which keeps so many wretches from perishing!"

"You might, at least, suppose me sufficiently acquainted with my own affairs, to be the best judge of what I ought and ought not to do, and trust to my prudence and discretion not to dry up the sources of that spring, as you call it, from which, perhaps, some little refreshment has flowed. You should have come Evelyn Marston. I.

2

to me, Cornelly; I would have told you frankly whether I could or could not help you."

"Would you then?

Cornelly.

I know better," muttered

"However," Mr. Du Chastel went on, "as this difficulty is relieved through the charity of this worthy lady through the mercy of God, which never forsakes us, ministered by her hand, I should more rightly say there remains my little mite to be expended in coal and meat for we must have a fire, and a bit of meat to make your poor wife a drop of broth, and a hunch of bread for you, my poor fellow! for I believe you are literally famishing."

The gaunt features, the sharp, hungry eyes of the man, when the mention of food roused the animal within the human creature, were shocking.

"Armand," said Mr. Du Chastel, turning to his son, "step to the coal dealer's, and bring a box of coals here is a tin coal-box. If it had been of wood, it would not have been there. Get it filled, and a few morsels of dry bread, and let me see a good fire against I return with a bit of meat. I am a capital market man," he went on, turning to me; "and it requires all the ability a man can muster, to deal with your knowing butchers at such a time as this, and get one's pennyworth for one's penny. An art the poor man understands as ill as he does most things not connected with his particular calling."

"May I go with you, and take a lesson?" "Much pleasure in giving one. It is a matter upon which I pique myself this buying meat and such things," he said, as the door closed after us, and wrapping ourselves in our cloaks, we breasted a cutting wind, which drove sleet and snow into our faces.

"What a night!" I said "and what a scene!"
He shook his head.

"Ah, sir! could the satirist's tale be realized, and the eye penetrate through these miserable walls, and beneath these miserable roofs, scarcely sufficing to shelter the wretched inhabitants from the cold but quite sufficient to screen their calamity from the eye of pity what heart-rending pictures would be disclosed! Scenes, indeed! Scenes, 'such as eye hath not seen nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.' Could this but be done this great, affluent, luxury-loving city would be awakened with a cry of horror. Man is hard, selfish, covetous but man is not a fiend. No, God has given a heart of flesh to all. It is because he does not see - because he does not know because he is not

careful to see

is not solicitous to know that these dreadful contrasts prevail wherever human beings are brought together in large masses. Under no circumstances is misery so hidden from view, as in the narrow streets of a vast metropolis like this more especially in a quarter like this - this Spital Fields