Only when the work was done and the shop closed, instead of joining the family circle in the back parlour, he would stroll out in the dusk of the evening, away from the town, and not return till the hour at which the family retired to rest.

Punctual in all he did, he never exceeded that hour.

He had heard once a week from his mother; and only on the mornings in which he expected a letter, did he seem restless and agitated.

Till the postman entered the shop, he was as pale as death--his hands trembling--his lips compressed.

When he read the letter he became composed for Catherine sedulously concealed from her son the state of her health: she wrote cheerfully, besought him to content himself with the state into which he had fallen, and expressed her joy that in his letters he intimated that content; for the poor boy's letters were not less considerate than her own.