father. Frederick was a cabinet-maker, and at the time referred to had been two years employed as a journeyman. Neither Mr. Charlston nor his sons were then addicted to intemperance. Frederick was a strict teetotaller. Occasionally a bottle of ale was partaken of by the others; or when an acquaintance visited the house, or during the Christmas holidays, an additional bottle might be set down to grace the table. They were, however, a sober and industrious family; and when the labours of the day were past, they generally gathered around the household hearth to spend their evenings pleasantly and profitably to themselves.

On the evening referred to, and whilst Mr. Charlston and family were engaged in their respective duties, as described, the door bell was rung. George attended to the signal; and in a few seconds a young man entered the room, signalizing himself in a very familiar but somewhat uncouth manner.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Charlston. How are you Eliza, Amelia, and Charlotte? and you Frederick, old lad? I didn't see you at work to-day. I thought something was out of joint with you, and I have come on purpose to see. Why what's the matter with your neck? You have it swaddled up as if you were determined to defy the hangman's rope from ever getting a hold of you," ejaculated Charles Holstrom.

"Oh, I have only caught a bit of a cold in my throat," replied Frederick; "come Charlie, take a seat by my side and give us your latest news about town."

The husky voice of Holstrom awoke the infant from its peaceful slumber, and the poor thing began to bawl loudly as if startled from either surprise or fear.

Mrs. Charlston lifted it to her knee, and having hushed it into quietness she began feeding it with some cordial food.

"Well, I declare, he has grown to be a big lump of a lad," exclaimed Holstrom. "I dare say, Frederick, you feel conceited enough now to think yourself a degree above such fellows as George and I are, in having graduated as a Batchelor of Arts—I mean—Bachelor of Babies. You will, no doubt hereafter, append B. B. to your name as a title of merit; or, Bad Behavior, I should rather have said. However, the initials will stand for both. He's the very picture of yourself, and will soon need a hat as big as his grandpa's."

At this moment the bell was again rung; and shortly afterwards, a graceful looking young woman entered the room. Very politely she shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Charlston and the others present. She then took the infant, and pressed it lovingly to her bosom, imprinting a few kisses upon its tiny lips. The child in return smiled affectionately, apparently delighted with the caresses of a recognized and familiar friend.

"I say, Clara," exclaimed Holstrom, addressing the young woman, with whom he was apparently acquainted, "I think it would be charitable on your part to spare a few of those luxuriant caresses for poor Frederick; a slight sprinkling of balm from your roseate lips would work wonders as a remedy to his breathing apparatus. Just come and see how many dozen of blankets he has wrapped around his throat: enough, I am sure, to supply the beds of a whole household on a winter's night."

"Why, Frederick, how did you get such a cold in your throat?" interrogated Clara.

"By sleeping alone during the cold nights of the past week," retorted Holstrom, ere Frederick could get time to breathe out a more respectful answer.

At this moment the subject was immediately dropped through the timely interference of Mr. Charlston, reading a paragraph of interesting news from the Times. After an hour's conversation on various topics the young woman arose and announced her intention of leaving; whereupon Holstrom sprang up, bade them all good night and immediately departed. Clara shortly afterwards left also, promising ere long to repeat her visit. It was customary for Frederick to accompany her home; but on account of his illness that night George offered to convey her to her residence, distant about one mile.

"Thank you, George, for your kind offer," replied Clara; "but there is no necessity to do so to-night; a female acquaintance who accompanied me to a friend's house a few doors from here, is expecting me to call for her, and perhaps I may be detained for some time, therefore, dear George, excuse me."

No sooner had Clara departed than Frederick, disguised himself in his father's old hat, overcoat and muffler, and immediately started in pursuit of Clara.

CHAPTER II.

Before proceeding further it is necessary to inform the reader who Clara and Charles Holstrom were; and, also, to narrate the varied and complicated circumstances of several years preceding this eventful night.

Charles Holstrom was the youngest son of a London tradesman. He had attended school with Frederick, and was now working in the same shop and at the same business with him. He was possessed of a robust physical appearance, somewhat coarsely featured;—of a bold, but humorous disposition—at times impertinent, and even repulsive in his manner. Frederick had really never considered him as a confidential friend; but their long acquaintance with each other, and the many associations of their united course in life had induced him to consider Charles as a respected friend rather than a fellow companion; and from these circumstances alone the Charlstons had received him as an occasional visitor to their house.

Clara Hazledon was the only daughter of a poor but respectable widow with whom the Charlston family had been long acquainted. Previous to their removal to Fleet street they were next door neighbors. Mr. Charlston and Clara's father had been early companions of each other. Their children had grown up together, and had been associates at the same school, and although now in unequal circumstances, still looked upon each other as very familiar friends. After the death of Mr. Hazledon, he having died when the family was young, his wife struggled hard against adversity to bring up her little ones. But five years after the death of her first husband she married another, who, unfortunately turned out to be only a worthless and degraded fellow. Clara, by her expertness at needlework, had procured a good situation in a millinery shop. Her brothers, all younger than herself, were also respectably employed.

Frederick and Clara had been passionately fond of each other when children, and as they grew older their affection became more matured; and at length the sympathies of their love were more firmly united by a marriage engagement, the consummation of which was purposed to take place as soon as circumstances would render it favorably convenient. But the basis of life's future prospects, however substantial it may be, is often undermined by some casual innovation; and there is no earthly hope, however bright its radiance may appear, but is liable to be darkened by some event that may suddenly loom up from the horizon of life. Such was the case amid the quietude of their affections. By some inadvertent impulse of human nature their chastity was sacrificed, and Frederick and Clara became parents before they had sanctified their affections upon the altar of matrimony.

The event threw a shadow into the homes of both families, and served as food for the tongues of idle gossips among their acquaintances.

Mrs. Charlston and her daughters paid a respectful visit to the house of Mrs. Hazledon—or Mrs. Collins as she was then named,—and with whom Clara was then staying. They carried with them presents of various sorts; and even Mr. Charlston himself, although chagrined at the event, evinced a charitable spirit by placing twenty guineas in the hand of Clara, as a present in behalf of his grandson.

Frederick stole his visits under the secret shades of evening, and showed every expression of sympathy and affection for Clara and the little one; at the same time promising the consummation of their union as soon as circumstances would conveniently permit. A few