heart, and even the sight of you brings with it old thoughts of him; it is because of all these things that I am moved to treat you gently now — yes, Edward Leeford, even now — and blush for your unworthiness who bear the name.’

‘What has the name to do with it?’ asked the other, after contemplating, half in silence, and half in dogged wonder, the agitation of his companion. ‘What is the name to me?’

‘Nothing,’ replied Mr. Brownlow, ‘nothing to you. But it was hers, and even at this distance of time brings back to me, an old man, the glow and thrill which I once felt, only to hear it repeated by a stranger. I am very glad you have changed it — very — very.’

‘This is all mighty fine,’