man had taken to her in those last moments of his life; and he hated her with all his heart and soul, having devoted all the force of his mind for the last ten years to the cultivation of his employer’s good graces, hoping that Mr. Nowell, having no one else to whom to leave his money, would end by leaving it all to him.  And here was a granddaughter, sprung from goodness knows where, to cheat him out of all his chances.  He had always suspected Gilbert Fenton of being a dangerous sort of person, and it was no doubt he who had brought about this introduction, to the annihilation of Mr. Tulliver’s hopes.  This young man took his place in a vacant chair by the fire, as if determined to stop; while Marian seated herself quietly by the sleeper’s pillow, thinking only of that one occupant of the room, and supposing that Mr. Tulliver’s presence was a mark of fidelity.

The old man woke with a start presently, and looked about him in a slow bewildered way for some moments.

“Who’s that?” he asked presently, pointing to the figure by the hearth.

“It’s only Mr. Tulliver, sir,” the widow answered.  “He’s so anxious about you, poor young man.”

“I don’t want him,” said Jacob Nowell impatiently.  “I don’t want his anxiety; I want to be alone with my granddaughter.”

“Don’t send me away, sir,” Mr. Tulliver pleaded in a piteous tone.  “I don’t deserve to be sent away like a stranger, after serving you faithfully for the last ten years——­”

“And being well paid for your services,” gasped the old man.  “I tell you I don’t want you.  Go downstairs and mind the shop.”

“It’s not open yet, sir,” remonstrated Mr. Tulliver.

“Then it ought to be.  I’ll have no idling and shirking because I’m ill.  Go down and take down the shutters directly.  Let the business go on just as if I was there to watch it.”

“I’m going, sir,” whimpered the young man; “but it does seem rather a poor return after having served you as I have, and loved you as if you’d been my own father.”

“Very much men love their fathers now-a-days!  I didn’t ask you to love me, did I? or hire you for that, or pay you for it?  Pshaw, man, I know you.  You wanted my money like the rest of them, and I didn’t mind your thinking there was a chance of your getting it.  I’ve rather encouraged the notion at odd times.  It made you a better servant, and kept you honest.  But now that I’m dying, I can afford to tell the truth.  This young lady will have all my money, every sixpence of it, except five-and-twenty pounds to Mrs. Mitchin yonder.  And now you can go.  You’d have got something perhaps in a small way, if you’d been less of a sneak and a listener; but you’ve played your cards a trifle too well.”

The old man had raised himself up in his bed, and rallied considerably while he made this speech.  He seemed to take a malicious pleasure in his shopman’s disappointment.  But when Luke Tulliver had slowly withdrawn from the room, with a last venomous look at Marian, Jacob Nowell sank back upon his pillow exhausted by his unwonted animation.