aversion for my patron, neither had I occasion to confess my own. We interchanged that confidence without shaping a syllable.

“What,” said I to Herbert, when he was safe in another chair, — “what is to be done?”

“My poor dear Handel,” he replied, holding his head, “I am too stunned to think.”

“So was I, Herbert, when the blow first fell. Still, something must be done.

He is intent upon various new expenses, — horses, and carriages, and lavish appearances of all kinds. He must be stopped somehow.”

“You mean that you can't accept — ”

“How can I?” I interposed, as Herbert paused.