him through the cholera, of which he died.  He left me all that he had—no money—but his scanty furniture, his book of prayers, his crucifix and rosary, and his papers.  How some of those papers came into his hands I know not.  They had evidently been written many years before the venerable man was born; and I doubt whether he had ever examined the bundles, which had come down to him from some old ancestor, or in some strange bequest.  His life was too busy to leave any time for the gratification of mere curiosity; I, alas! have only had too much leisure.”

Next Monday, Signor Sperano read to us the story which I will call

“The Poor Clare.”

[At this point comes “The Poor Clare”]

Now, of all our party who had first listened to my Lady Ludlow, Mr. Preston was the only one who had not told us something, either of information, tradition, history, or legend.  We naturally turned to him; but we did not like asking him directly for his contribution, for he was a grave, reserved, and silent man.

He understood us, however, and, rousing himself as it were, he said—

“I know you wish me to tell you, in my turn, of something which I have learnt during my life.  I could tell you something of my own life, and of a life dearer still to my memory; but I have shunk from narrating anything so purely personal.  Yet, shrink as I will, no other but those sad recollections will present themselves to my mind.  I call them sad when I think of the end of it all.  However, I am not going to moralize.  If my dear brother’s life and death does not speak for itself, no words of mine will teach you what may be learnt from it.”

[At this point comes the final story “The Half-Brothers”]

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUND THE SOFA***