Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.

'It will be,' he said dryly; 'and that is the reason why it is important to be able to prove that his intellect was clear to the last. You need have no fear, Mr. Meadow. The will cannot be shaken.'

I thanked him for the assurance, and asked him if he was acquainted with the extent of the property.

'It will probably realise,' he answered, 'not less-yes, I should certainly say not less-than two hundred and thirty thousand pounds.'

'A vast fortune, indeed,' I said, with a beating heart at this confirmation of my hopes.

'And made out of nothing,' he added. 'He commenced life as a poor clerk. I have heard it said of him that whatever he touched turned to gold.'

I left to the lawyer the management of everything connected with Mr. Fairhaven's will. As he had predicted, it was disputed, on the ground of the testator's incapacity. But it was proved, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Mr. Fairhaven was in the full possession of his reasoning faculties not only at the time he made his will, but up to the very day of his death. The validity of the will was unhesitatingly upheld by the judges, and the property came into my possession. Nevertheless the case was not finally settled until after the lapse of many months, and during this time the newspapers were busy upon Mr. Fairhaven's eccentricity. 'It remains to be seen,' said an influential paper, in a leading article, 'and it is a matter of much curiosity, how the legatee will administer his trust' I found myself quite a public character, and I was inundated with applications and with letters of advice. But my resolution was already formed.

I did not disclose this resolution to the Silvers while the matter was in the law-courts. So great was my anxiety that I feared, even up to the last moment, that some chance or quibble of the law would deprive me of the means for carrying it out. Not until everything was settled, not until the property was declared to be mine incontestably, not until it was realised, and the money invested in the Funds, did I consider myself free to open my mind to my dear friends. I had my last interview with the lawyer; he had acted throughout in the most straightforward manner, and I thanked him sincerely.

'And yet,' he remarked, 'you said once to Mr. Fairhaven that if there were in the world one lawyer where now there are a hundred, the world would be the better for it.'

'I think so still,' I replied.

'Strange,' he said, with a touch of pleasant satire, 'that the world has never been able to get along without us.'

'Never!' I exclaimed. 'Nay, you must be mistaken.'

'I am not mistaken. I can go as far back as the days of Abraham for proof. Did not that patriarch buy "the field of Ephron, which was in Macphelah, which was before Mamre; the field, and the cave which was therein, and all the trees that were in the field, that were in all the borders round about?" The very words we read in Genesis. Do you mean to tell me that any one but a lawyer could have written such a description? We have our uses, my dear sir!'

I smiled. I was too happy to argue with him, and we parted the best of friends. In the evening I found myself, as I had designed, in Buttercup-square. I knocked at Mrs. Silver's door, and she herself opened it. Only Rachel and she were at home. I had kept her fully acquainted with the progress of affairs, and she knew that I expected to have my final interview with the lawyer on this day.

'All is settled,' I said. 'What do you see in my face?'

'Happiness.'

'It is in my heart. This is a supreme moment in my life. I feel that I am about to commence a great work.' Mrs. Silver did not reply, but looked earnestly at me. I noticed also that Rachel suspended her sewing. 'The vast fortune that Mr. Fairhaven left has been safely invested in Consols. What income, do you think, is derivable from the money?'

'I am afraid to guess.'

'What would you say to nearly nine thousand pounds a year?'

'As much as that?' asked Mrs. Silver, with an exclamation of astonishment.

'Quite as much. What is to be done with this great sum, of which I am the steward?'

'It is a grave question,' she said; 'one not easily answered.'

'Still I have not found it difficult to decide. When I first received Mr. Fairhaven's letter an inspiration fell upon me, and my resolution was formed. But I did not dare to consult you upon it, for I feared that the means of carrying it out would slip from me. Now I am free to speak. Listen to me in silence, and when I have unfolded my plan, tell me what you think of it. The inspiration that fell on me on the first disclosure of this good fortune came, my dearest friend, from you, and from the history and influence of your happy home. During the interval that has passed since that eventful day I have thought deeply over my scheme, and have matured it to some extent in my mind. I have not been so wrapt up in it as to be regardless of other modes of expending the money in a good and useful way; but, in the continual contemplation of it, I have become more and more strengthened in my belief that my first thoughts are the happiest and the best. I know the solemnity of the trust reposed in me, and from this moment I consecrate my life to it, convinced that I shall find true happiness in it. I propose to establish on a large scale a Home for the poorest orphaned and friendless children, whom we shall adopt while they are very young, and educate and rear in such a manner as shall make them good and useful members of society. We will take them from the gutters, and rescue them from ignorance and crime; and as they grow up we will draft them into the ranks of honest bread-winners, either in this or in other countries, and fill their places with other poor children. There shall be no distinctive mark of charity upon them; they shall be so brought up as to be proud of the Home in which they are armed for the battle of life. There are numerous matters of detail which need not be discussed and decided upon at present; such as establishing schools of trade in our Home, so that the children may be usefully employed until they take their places in the ranks of out-door workers. I have seen a large building, with ground attached, which will suit our purpose admirably; the rental is three hundred pounds a year. I requires a great deal of alteration, which the proprietor is willing to make if he can let it on a long lease. There is sufficient available land round the building for playgrounds and gardens. The children themselves shall learn to be the gardeners. This, in brief, is my scheme, of which I ask your approval. I see many beautiful pictures in the future in connection with it, the contemplation of which makes me supremely happy. I see men and women in whom have been implanted the seeds of cleanliness, industry, virtue, and religion, living their useful lives, and some among them rising even to eminence in this and other lands-men and women who, without this Home, would be lurking about in rags and want, and filling the public houses and prisons. I see them marrying, and bringing up their children in the right path, and holding out a helping hand to others. I see the means for enlarging our Home coming from some of the prosperous ones, out of the gratitude of their hearts. And when the time comes for me to render an account of my stewardship, I trust I shall have earned the approval of Him from whom all blessings are derived. Tell me, dear friend, do you think my scheme a good one?'

Mrs. Silver took my hand in hers, and retained it. She was too agitated to speak, but I saw perfect approval in her sweet face, and in the sweet face of Rachel. I continued:

'In his first proposition to me to make me his heir, Mr. Fairhaven expressed a wish that I should take his name after his death, and spend his money in such a manner as to make the name a great one in society. I shall call our Home, Fairhaven; and thus his goodness will be perpetuated. I look to you, dear madam, to assist me in my scheme, and I ask you to enlist under my banner, as I once enlisted under yours.'

She gave me the assurance of her fullest help, and said she had never hoped such happiness would be hers as to assist in the development of a scheme which she described as noble and good.

'And now,' I said, in tones which trembled with emotion, for I was approaching a subject very dear to my heart, 'if I might be permitted to say a few words privately to you-'

Rachel rose and left the room. I followed her form with wistful eyes, and when I turned to Mrs. Silver I saw that good woman regarding me more attentively than she had hitherto done. I paused for awhile before I resumed.

'I am about to speak of a selfish subject-myself. In Mr. Fairhaven's letter to me, he states that every labourer is worthy of his hire, and that if the administration of the trust he has reposed in me occupies the chief portion of my time, I am warranted in drawing from the funds an annual salary of one hundred and fifty pounds. As I shall make my home at Fairhaven, and shall devote all my time to the furtherance of my scheme, I believe I am fairly entitled to that sum. If I were possessed of private means I would not accept one shilling of the money for my own use; I would cheerfully give my labours without fee and without reward. But it is otherwise with me, and in the annual statement which I shall draw up and endeavour to get published in the papers, I shall place the sum of a hundred and fifty pounds as the fixed salary paid to the general manager of the Home. I am justified in doing that, am I not?'

'Quite justified.'

'The income I have hitherto received for my labours has been sufficient for my personal needs, but not more than sufficient. I have felt this sorely, for with those means I have not dared to indulge in the contemplation of the dearest wish and hope of my heart. But now all is clear before me, and I may speak without hesitation.'

My agitation communicated itself to her; I saw the signs of it in her face.

'Not very long ago you said something to me which was very sweet to my ear. You said that if it had pleased God to give you a son of your own, you would have wished him to resemble me. I have thought of these words very often. Have you sufficient confidence in me to give into my care one whom I love with all the strength of my heart and soul? Will you give me Rachel for my wife? Will you let me call you Mother?'

I leant towards her eagerly; she looked at me with solemn affection.

'I am proud of you,' she said, 'and I love you as if you were my own. But have you well considered? Rachel is blind-'

'Not to me-not to me, Mother! To make her my wife is the dearest hope of my heart.'

'If I seem to hesitate,' she said tearfully, 'it is because I love you. I would trust you with the dearest treasure I have.'

'If you hesitate,' I replied, 'I shall think that you begin to doubt me. You must believe what I say. Rachel's love will crown my life with perfect happiness.'

I have cause to remember and bless that night. Before I left the house Rachel and I plighted our troth to each other. The dear girl, while confessing that she loved me, actually needed persuasion to accept me as her husband. She was full of doubts of herself, and of her fitness, being blind, to fulfil a wife's duties. Pure, gentle heart! Her presence would sweeten and add lustre to a palace. It was decided that we should not be married until Fairhaven was fairly established, and this I knew would occupy some considerable time.

So now, with everything fair before me, I set to work upon my scheme. The house and grounds I had mentioned to Mrs. Silver as being suitable for the Home, I took on a long lease, in which a purchasing clause was inserted. The necessary alterations were carefully discussed, and were commenced as soon as possible. As I had resolved, I made my scheme public, through the medium of the newspapers, the writers in which gave me the most generous assistance and encouragement. To my surprise, not one thought my idea quixotic; and before Fairhaven was ready to receive inmates, its name became famous not only in this, but in other countries. Every hour of my time was occupied, and I think I may fairly say I earned my wages. It would occupy too much space here to narrate the details of my work; they were numerous and onerous-more so than I had contemplated; but I did not shrink from them, and the assistance I received from the Silvers was of incalculable value to me. Letters poured in upon me, and among them were some addressed to the Master of Fairhaven. It pleased my friends to adopt this title for me, and I accepted it with pride and pleasure.

One of the most gratifying features of the movement was that many of the letters contained subscriptions in money in aid of the Home. These subscriptions it was necessary to acknowledge, and I thought it would be a good thing to acknowledge them in the newspapers. I did so; and the result was astonishing. Stimulated by the example, money was sent to me from all quarters and from all kinds of people, even from the poorest. Before many weeks had elapsed I found that the work of answering these letters was too much for me.

'You want a secretary,' said Mrs. Silver.

'I have been thinking of it,' I said; 'and I have thought of offering the situation to some one whom you know.'

'To whom?'

'To Mary. The work will be no harder for her than that which she already accomplishes in the telegraph office.'

Mrs. Silver was delighted with the suggestion, and Mary was offered and accepted the situation. Thus the work went on harmoniously, and a fortnight before Christmas the Home was in a sufficiently forward state to commence operations. I had schemed that the inauguration should take place on Christmas-day, and I proposed that all my friends-the Silvers and their children, Mr. Merrywhistle, Jimmy Virtue, Robert Truefit and his family, and Blade o'-Grass-should spend the day at Fairhaven. It was thus arranged, and this Christmas two years, Fairhaven received more than sixty poor orphaned children, and the good work was actually commenced.

I must mention here that Blade-o'-Grass had lived with Mrs. Silver from the time of Tom Beadle's departure; and on this, our inauguration day, I found her assistance with the children peculiarly valuable.

'This is the anniversary of your wedding-day, my dear,' I said to Blade-o'-Grass.

'Yes, sir,' she answered; 'there are only four years now to wait. Did you know I had a letter last night from Tom?'

'No, my dear.'

She gave me the letter, and I found that it was written-very badly, of course-by Tom Beadle himself. He was learning to read as well, he said in the letter; Richard was his tutor.