Then he fought for manly dignity, and said, with a lamentable mixture of sham sprightliness and real anguish, "Thank you, sir; I only trust that you will always find servants as devoted to your interest as my gratitude would have made me.

Good-morning, sir." He clapped his hat on with a sprightly, ghastly air, and marched off resolutely.
But ere he reached the door, Nature overpowered the father's heart; way went Bolton's instructions; away went fictitious deportment and feigned cheerfulness.

The poor wretch uttered a cry, indeed a scream, of anguish, that would have thrilled ten thousand hearts had they heard it; he dashed his hat on the ground, and rushed toward Bartley, with both hands out--"FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T SEND ME AWAY--MY CHILD IS STARVING!" Even Bartley was moved.

"Your child!" said he, with some little feeling.
This slight encouragement was enough for a father.

His love gushed forth.
"A little golden-haired, blue-eyed angel, who is all the world to me.