was a most charming girl, and might have
passed for a captive fairy whom that truculent
Ogre, Old Barley, had pressed into his service.
"Look here," said Herbert, showing me the
basket with a compassionate and tender smile
after we had talked a little; " here's poor Clara's
supper, served out every night. Here's her
allowance of bread, and here's her slice of cheese,
and here's her rum —which I drink. This is Mr.
Barley's breakfast for tomorrow, served out to
be cooked. Two mutton chops, three potatoes,
some split peas, a little flour, two ounces of
butter, a pinch of salt, and all this black pepper.
It's stewed up together and taken hot, and it's
a nice thing for the gout, I should think!"

There was something so natural and winning
in Clara's resigned way of looking at these
stores in detail, as Herbert pointed them out, —
and something so confiding, loving, and innocent,
in her modest manner of yielding herself to
Herbert's embracing arm—and something so
gentle in her, so much needing protection on
Mill Pond Bank, by Chinks's Basin, and the
Old Green Copper Rope Walk, with Old Barley
growling in the beam—that I would not have
undone the engagement between her and
Herbert, for all the money in the pocket book I had
never opened.

I was looking at her with pleasure and
admiration, when suddenly the growl swelled into
a roar again, and a frightful bumping noise was
heard above, as if a giant with a wooden leg
were trying to bore it through the ceiling to
come at us. Upon this Clara said to Herbert,
"Papa wants me, darling!" and ran away.

"There's an unconscionable old shark for
you!" said Herbert. "What do you suppose
he wants now, Handel?"

"I don't know," said I. "Something to
drink?"

"That's it!" cried Herbert, as if I had made
a guess of extraordinary merit. " He keeps his
grog ready mixed in a little tub on the table.
Wait a moment, and you'll hear Clara lift him
up to take  some.—  There he goes!" Another
roar, with a prolonged shake at the end.
' Now," said Herbert, as it was succeeded by
silence, " he's drinking. Now," said Herbert,
as the growl resounded in the beam once more,
"he's down again on his back!"

Clara returning soon afterwards, Herbert
accompanied me upstairs to see our charge. As
we passed Mr. Barley's door, he was heard
hoarsely muttering within, in a strain that rose
and fell like wind, the following Refrain; in
which I substitute good wishes for something
quite the reverse.

"Ahoy! Bless your eyes, here's old Bill Barley.
Here's old Bill Bar!ey, bless your eyes.
Here's old Bill Barley on the flat of his back, by the
Lord. Lying on the flat of his back, like a
drifting old dead flounder, here's your old Bill
Barley, bless your eyes. Ahoy! Bless you."

ln this strain of consolation, Herbert
informed me the invisible Barley would commune
with himself by the day and night together;
often, while it was light, having, at the same
time, one eye at a  telescope which was fitted
on his bed for the convenience of sweeping the
river.

In his two cabin rooms at the top of the
house, which were fresh and airy, and in which
Mr. Barley  was less audible than below, I found
Provis comfortably settled. He expressed
no alarm, and  seemed to feel none that was
worth mentioning; but it struck me that he was
softened—indefinably,  for I could not have said
how, and could never afterwards recall how,
when I tried; but certainly.

The opportunity that the day's rest had given
me for reflection, had resulted in my fully
determining to say nothing to him respecting
Compeyson. For anything I knew, his animosity
towards the man might otherwise lead to his
seeking him out and rushing on his own destruction.
Therefore, when Herbert and I sat down
with him by his fire, I asked him first of all
whether he relied on Wemmick's judgment and
sources of information?

"Ay, ay, dear boy!" he answered, with a
grave nod, " Jaggers's knows."

"Then I have talked with Wemmick," said I,
"and have come to tell you what caution he
gave me, and what advice."

This I did accurately, with the reservation
just mentioned; and I told him how Wemmick
had heard, in Newgate prison (whether from
officers or prisoners I could not say), that he was
In under some suspicion, and that my chambers
had been watched; how Wemmick had
recommended his keeping close for a time, and my
keeping away from him; and what Wemmick
had said about getting him abroad. I added,
that of course, when the time came, I should go
with him, or should follow close upon him,
as might be safest in Wemmick's judgment. What
was to follow that, I did not touch upon; neither
indeed was I at all clear or comfortable about it
in my own mind, now that I saw him in that
softer condition, and in declared peril for my
sake. As to altering my way of living, by
enlarging my expenses, I put it to him whether
in our present unsettled and difficult
circumstances, it would not be simply ridiculous, if
it were no worse?

He could not deny this, and indeed was very
reasonable throughout. His coming back was a
venture, he said, and he had always known it
to be a venture. He would do nothing to make
it a desperate venture, and he had very little
fear of his safety with such good help.

Herbert, who had been looking at the fire
and pondering, here said that something had
come into his thoughts arising out of Wemmick's
suggestion, which it might be worth while to
pursue. " We are both good watermen, Handel,
and could take him down the river ourselves
when the right time comes. No boat would
then be hired for the purpose, and no boatmen;
that would save at least a chance of suspicion,
and any chance is worth saving. Never mind
the season; don't you think it might be a good
thing if you began at once to keep a boat at the
Temple stairs, and were in the habit of rowing