Lucy looked deeply gratified; and I saw another of those inexplicable smiles lurking around her lovely mouth, which almost tempted me to demand an explanation of its meaning.  Ere there was time for this, however, her countenance became very, very sad, and she turned her tearful eyes toward me.

“Miles, I fear I understood your allusion, when you spoke of Rupert’s money,” she said.  “I feared poor, sainted Grace would do this; and I knew you would strip yourself of every dollar to comply with her wishes.  I wonder the idea never occurred to me before; but it is so hard to think ill of a brother!  I ask no questions, for I see you are determined not to answer them—­perhaps have given a pledge to your sister to that effect:  but we cannot live under this disgrace; and the day I am twenty-one, this grievous, grievous wrong must be repaired.  I know that Grace’s fortune had accumulated to more than twenty thousand dollars; and that is a sum sufficient to pay all you owe, and to leave you enough to begin the world anew.”

“Even were what you fancy true, do you think I would consent to rob you, to pay Rupert’s debts?”

“Talk not of robbery.  I could not exist under the degradation of thinking any of us had your money, while debt and imprisonment thus hung over you.  There is but one thing that can possibly prevent my paying you back Grace’s fortune, the day I am of age, as you will see, Miles.”

Again that inexplicable smile passed over Lucy’s face, and I was resolved to ask its meaning, when the approaching footstep of Mr. Hardinge prevented it.

“Mr. Harrison is not in,” cried the divine, as he entered the room; “but I left a note for him, telling him that his old acquaintance, Captain Wallingford, had pressing need of his services.  He has gone to Greenwich, to his country place, but will be back in the course of the day, and I have desired he will come to Wall street, the instant he can.  I would not blazon your misfortunes, Miles; but the moment he arrives, you shall hear from him.  He is an old school-fellow of mine, and will be prompt to oblige me.  Now, Miss Lucy, I am about to release you from prison.  I saw a certain Mr. Drewett walking in the direction of Wall-street, and had the charity to tell him you would be at home in ten minutes.”

Lucy arose with an alacrity I could hardly forgive.  The colour deepened on her face, and I thought she even hurried her father away, in a manner that was scarcely sufficiently reserved.  Ere they left the room, however, the dear girl took an opportunity to say, in a low voice, “Remember, Miles, I hold you strictly to your promise:  in one hour, you shall be free.”

Chapter XXVIII.

  “She half-enclosed me in her arms,
     She pressed me with a meek embrace;
   And bending back her head, looked up
     And gazed upon my face.”

  Coleridge.