Cummiskey himself remained comparatively tranquil, but his tranquillity was neither more nor less than an inexpressible sorrow for what he knew the affectionate old man must suffer for the idol of his heart, upon whom he doted with such unexampled tenderness and affection.

On ascertaining that she was not in the house, he went upstairs to his master's bedroom, having the candlestick in his hand, and tapped at the door.

There was no reply from within, and on his entering he found the old man asleep.

The case, however, was one that admitted of no delay; but he felt that to communicate the melancholy tidings was a fearful task, and he scarcely knew in what words to shape the event which had occurred.

At length he stirred him gently, and the old man, half asleep, exclaimed: "Good-night, Helen--good-night, darling! I am not well; I had something to tell you about the discovery of--but I will let you know it to-morrow at breakfast.