there must have been some difference in the shape, as Roger was very slim; but," she added, "I suppose all those large clothes would make him appear bigger than he is." Again, alluding to the "photographics," she remarks that at least the hand in the portrait is small, and adds, "that peculiar thing has done a good deal with me to make me recognize him."

A year and a half was consumed in these tedious hagglings with brokers and agents for the restoration of a lost heir, and during great part of that time the lost heir himself made no sign, but contented himself with begging trifling loans of Gibbes on the strength of his pretensions. Sometimes a pound was the modest request ; sometimes "two pound." He had married, and a child was born, and on that occasion he implored for "three pound," plaintively declaring that he was "more like a mannick than a B. of B. K. (supposed to mean a Baronet of British Kingdom) to have a child born in such a hovel." Still the client of Mr. Gibbes, and now claimant to the vast estates of Tichborne, wrapped himself in impenetrable secrecy. The Dowager Lady Tichborne complains that while pressed to send everybody money, she was not even allowed to know the whereabouts nor present name of her lost Roger; and she entreated, piteously, to be allowed to communicate more directly. It was nothing to her that the accounts he had given of Roger Tichborne's life were wrong in every particular, except where her own advertisement had furnished information. "I think," she said on this point, "my poor, dear Roger confuses everything in his head, just as in a dream, and I believe him to be my son, though his statements differ from mine."

It was in the midst of this curious triangular correspondence between Gibbes in Wagga-Wagga, Cubitt in Sydney, and the poor mother in Paris, that trouble

Sister in 1866.

My Dear and beloved sister. It may years now i heard from

of you I have never

a word from

knew since

16544.

But

my

friend or stephens is dout starting for England. And he has promised to find you all out and write and let me know all about you I do not intend た say much because he

can tell you all aboutine

Hoping my dear noter

te will make him welcome pus he is a dear friend mine so good bye arthur stor 2C

Sir

once more entered the old home at Tichborne. Alfred, the younger brother of Roger, was dead, and the poor half-crazed mother, in her solitary lodging in the Place de la Madeleine, was left more than ever desolate. Widowed and childless, she had nothing now but to brood over her sorrows, and cling to the old dream of the miraculous saving of her eldest born, who, since the terrible hour of shipwreck-now twelve years past-had given no token of existence. The position of affairs at Tichborne was remarkable, for though there were hopes of an heir to Tichborne, Sir Alfred had left no child. For the moment the curse of Lady Mabella seemed to be fulfilled. Should the child-unborn, but already fatherless-prove to be a girl, or other mischance befal, there was an end of the old race of Tichborne. The property would then go to collaterals, and the baronetcy must become extinct. It was under the weight of these new sorrows that the Dowager Lady Tichborne wrote pitiable letters to Gibbes, promising money and asking for more particulars; while inclosing, at the same time, to the man who thus unaccountably kept himself aloof, a letter beginning, "My dear and beloved Roger, I hope you will not refuse to come back to your poor afflicted mother. I have had the great misfortune to lose your poor dear father, and lately I have lost my beloved son Alfred. I am now alone in this world of sorrow, and I hope you will take that into consideration, and come back."

It is hardly surprising that during this time Mr. Gibbes was constantly urging his mysterious client to relinquish his disguise. Why so shy? In the commencement of the affair he had, it is true, been shy and reserved; and, but for the imprudent fellow's habit of carving the initials R. C. T. on mantel-pieces, and marking them on his pipe, and smoking it under Mr. Gibbes'

nose and this just at the time when the Dowager's advertisement was flourishing in the Australian papers— that simple-minded attorney might never have discovered his secret. But now all reserve was thrown off, at least between attorney and client; and it had long been understood that the wanderer was willing to go home and claim his title and estates. Why, then, not declare himself boldly? Why not write to the mother and mention some facts known only to those two, which would at once convince her? True, he had already mentioned "facts," which turned out to be fictions, and yet the Dowager's faith was unabated. Mr. Gibbes' client was, therefore, justified in his answer, that he "did not think it needful." But, Gibbes was pressing, for it happened that the Dowager had, in one of her letters, said, "I shall expect an answer from him. As I know his handwriting, I shall know at once whether it is from him." Accordingly, Mr. Gibbes' client, under the eye of his attorney, sat down at last, and penned the following epistle :

"Wagga-Wagga, Jan. 17 66.

My Dear Mother,-The delay which has taken place since my last Letter Dated 22d April 54 Makes it very difficult to Commence this letter. I deeply regret the truble and anxoiety I must have cause you by not writing before. But they are known to my Attorney And the more private details I will keep for your own Ear. Of one thing rest Assured that although I have been in A humble conditoin of Life I have never let any act disgrace you or my Family. I have been A poor Man and nothing worse. Mr. Gilbes suggest to me as essential. That I should recall to your memory things which can only be known to you and to me to convince you of my Idenitity. I dont think it needful my dear Mother. although I sind them Mamely. the Brown Mark on my