Nevada County picayune., 1886-02-24

The people round him changed as unaccountably as on that first night at Dr. Blimber's-Xcept Flor ence; Florence never changed and what had been Sir Parker Peps, was now his father, sitting with his head upon his hand, Old Mrs. Pipchin dozing in an easy chair, often changed to Miss Fox, or his aunt; and Paul was quite content to shut his eyes again, and see what happened next without emotion. But this figure with its head upon hand returned so often and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, never speaking, ne e being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to wonder languidly if it was real; anG in the nighttime saw it sitting there, with fear.
 "Floy," he said. "what is that?'
 "Where, dearest?"
 There, at the bottom of the bed.'
 There's nothing there except papa"
 The figure lifted up it's head, and rose, and coming to the bedside. said, My own boy! Don't you know mel"
 Paul look in the face add thought was this his father. But the face so altered to his thinking, thrill ed while he gazed, as if it were in pain; and before he could reach out both his hands to take it be- tween them, aud draw it towards him, the figure turned away quick lv from the little bed, and went out at the door.
 Paul looked st Florence with a tluttering heart, but he knew what she was going to say, and stopped her with his face against her lips. The next time he observed the fig ure sitting at the bottom of the bed he called to it.
 "Dou't be so sorry for me, dear papa. Indeed, l am quite happy"
 His father coming and bending down to him-which he did quick 1 ly, and without first pauslng by the bedside-Pau held him round the neck, and repeated those words to him several times, and very earn es,ly; and Paul never saw him in his room again at any time, wheth- CT it were day or night, but he called out, "Don't be so sorry for me! Indeed l am quite happy" This was the beginning of his al ways saying in the morning that they were to tell his father so.
 How many times the golden wa ter danc ced upon the wall; how many nights the dark river rolled towards the sea in spite of him; Paul never counted, never sought 10 know. If their kindness or his sense of it, could have increased, they were more kind, and he more grateful every day, but whether they were many days or few, ap- peared of little moment now 10 the gentle boy.
 One night he had been thinking of his mother, and her picture in the drawing-room down stairs, and thought she must have loved sweet Florence better than his father did, to have held her iu her arms when she felt that she was dying for even he, her brother, who had such dear love for her, could have no greater wish than that. The train of thought suggested to blm to inquire if he Lad ever seen his mother; for he could not remember whether tLey had told him yes or no, the river running very last and confusing his mind.
 "Floy, did 1 ever see mamma" |"
 "No, darling, whyW
 "Did 1 ever see any kind lace like mammals looking at mo when I was baby, Floyw
 He had asked increduously, as if he had some vision of q face be- fore him,
 "Oh, yes, dear"
 "Whose, Floy?'
 "Your old nurses. Often."
 "And where is my old nurse?'' said Paul, sIs she dead, tool Floy, are we all dead, except youF'
 There was d hurry in the room for an ins,ant--longer, perhaps; but it seemed no more-then all was still again, and Florence, with