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ENGLISH ¾©Ïã¸ÐÐ»¼À·¬ºÅ"Well, Coralie," said Mr. Youle, an hour later, as he preceded Bergan into the drawing-room of the fine old family mansion that had been the home of the Youles for many years, "bring out your laurels, I have brought you a conquering hero."
"We have been talking of you," said Carice, with gentle directness.
A chill November day was drawing near its close. With the evening dusk snowflakes filled the air, and began to whiten the swells and slopes of the Arling farm, and lay the foundation of future drifts beside the doorstep and under the eaves of the Arling homestead. This structure had begun life as a log cabin, but had grown, by the simple and natural process of adding on a room or a wing, as fast as it was required and could be afforded, into a large, and somewhat picturesque, cluster of roofs and gables; beneath which there might easily be not only room for the fullest, heartiest flow of domestic and social life, but also means and influences to a considerable degree of refinement and culture.Bergan Arling was seated in his office at Savalla. At first sight, it might seem that he was little changed, but a closer inspection would have awakened some surprise that the lapse of little more than a year could have changed him so much. The youthfulness had gone out of his face,that half-eager, half-wistful look which says so plainly, "The world is all before me, where to choose;"it was now the face of a man among men, who had found his place and his work, who had grappled with many hard problems, and solved some, who was accustomed to deal with serious subjects in a serious way, and who had withal, a definite rule and object of life. In short, it was informed with a positive and noble individuality, born out of suffering, and not yet wholly oblivious of the pangs that had given it birth, but certain, in good time, to attain to the fulness of an inward joy, which, having a deep wellspring of its own, would be little dependent upon the ebb and flow of outward circumstance.
Mr. Bergan laid his hand warningly on his shoulder. "It seems to me," said he, "that you cannot begin your search better than in this house.""Does no one pray for you?"
The child's lip assumed its most sorrowful curve. "To get some money to give Astra," she answered. "We are very poor now; the Bank went and got broke, with all mamma's money in it; and she was taken sick, and Astra couldn't get much to do, and we've had to move into a little mean house, in a dirty little street, where there are no flowers, nor trees, nor anything that's nice. And this morning I saw Astra take the last money out of her purse, to pay the rent, and she lookedoh! I can't tell how she looked,something like that big gray man, with the little boy on his back, that she made so long ago; and I did so wish that I could do something to help her, just a little bit. So, when she sent me out to take a walk with Nix, it came into my head that I could beg for her, if I couldn't do anything else, and I thought I'd try it. Was it doing wrong?""It seems so," replied Mr. Tatum; "it is clearly worded, and duly signed and witnessed."
She went on, seemingly so intent upon her own train of thought as to be utterly unmindful of the solemn and searching nature of the questions that she was putting;
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Very solemnly Bergan answered;"I do."
Dick looked astonished, but muttered, resignedly,"God sends no more than can be borne." Then he bowed low to Bergan. "Dopo un papa, se ne fa un altro," said he,"The King is dead, long live the King; I congratulate you."
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