“Ah, indeed!” returned Mr. Liddell, thoughtfully.

“I have been explaining to Mr. Liddell,” said the lawyer, turning to Katherine, “that it would be well to let me give you the house-keeping money for the present, so that he need not be troubled about anything except to get well; and when well, my dear sir, you really must go out.  Fresh air—­”

“Fresh fiddle-sticks,” interrupted the old man; “I have been well for years without going out, and I’ll not begin now.  I’ll give in to everything else; only, if I am obliged to take costly food as a medicine, I expect the rest of the household to live as carefully as ever.”

“I shall do my best, uncle,” said Katherine, softly.

After a little more conversation the lawyer took his leave, and then Katherine applied herself to read the papers which had been neglected.

It was not till toward evening she was able to write a few lines to her mother describing Mr. Liddell’s illness, and begging she would come to see her on Saturday, as she (Katherine) could not absent herself while her uncle was so unwell.

After this things went on much as usual, only Mr. Liddell never resumed his habits of early rising; he was a shade less cold too, though at times terribly irritable.

He took the food prepared for him obediently enough, but with evident want of appetite, rarely finishing what was provided.

Mr. Newton generally called every week, and Katherine wrote to him besides; she was strict in insisting on the audit of her accounts, which the accurate lawyer sometimes praised.  By judicious accounts of Fergusson, the other surviving member of the Tontine, he managed to keep his client in tolerable order.  Katherine, though grateful to him for his friendly help, little knew how strenuously he strove to lengthen the old miser’s days, hoping he would make some provision for his niece, while he dared not offer any suggestion on the subject, lest it should produce an effect contrary to what he desired.

Mrs. Fred Liddell was bitterly disappointed by the result of her visit to the rich uncle.  A good deal, indeed, hung upon it.  A wealthy succession was certainly a thing to be devoutly wished for in itself, but the sharp little widow felt that provision for her boys and a dowry for herself meant marriage, if she chose, with Colonel Ormonde.

And she very decidedly did wish it.  Her imagination, which was vivid enough of its kind, was captivated by the Colonel’s imposing “bow-wow” manner, the idea of a country place—­an old family place too—­by his diamond ring and florid compliments, his self-satisfied fastidiousness and his social position.  In short, to her he seemed a fashionable hero; but she was quite sure he never would hamper himself with two little portionless boys.  Ada Liddell was by no means unkind to her children; she was ready to pet them when they met, and give them what did not cost her too much; but she considered them a terrible disadvantage, and herself a most generous and devoted mother.