The Last.  
For many months Frank Willders lay upon his bed unable to move, and scarcely able to speak. His left leg and arm had been broken, his face and hands were burned and cut, and his once stalwart form was reduced to a mere wreck.
 
During that long and weary time of suffering he had two nurses who never left him—who relieved each other day and night; smoothed his pillow and read to him words of comfort from God’s blessed book. These were, his own mother and Emma Ward.
 
For many weeks his life seemed to waver in the balance, but at last he began to mend. His frame, however, had been so shattered that the doctors held out little hope of his ever being anything better than a helpless cripple, so, one day, he said to Emma:
 
“I have been thinking, Emma, of our engagement.” He paused and spoke sadly—as if with great difficulty.
 
“And I have made up my mind,” he continued, “to release you.”
 
“Frank!” exclaimed Emma.
 
“Yes, dear. No one can possibly understand what it costs me to say this, but it would be the worst kind of selfishness were I to ask you to marry a poor wretched cripple like me.”
 
“But what if I refuse to be released, Frank?” said Emma, with a smile; “you may, indeed, be a cripple, but you shall not be a wretched one if it is in my power to make you happy; and as to your being poor—what of that? I knew you were not rich when I accepted you, and you know I have a very, very small fortune of my own which will at least enable us to exist until you are able to work again.”
 
Frank looked at her in surprise, for he had not used the word poor with reference to money.
 
“Has mother, then, not told you anything about my circumstances of late?” he asked.
 
“No, nothing; what could she tell me that I do not already know?” said Emma.
 
Frank made no reply for a few moments, then he said with a sad yet gratified smile—
 
“So you refuse to be released?”
 
“Yes, Frank, unless you insist on it,” replied Emma.
 
Again the invalid relapsed into silence and shut his eyes. Gradually he fell into a quiet slumber, from which, about two hours later, he awoke with a start under the impression that he had omitted to say something. Looking up he found that his mother had taken Emma’s place. He at once asked why she had not told Emma about the change in his fortunes.
 
“Because I thought it best,” said Mrs Willders, “to leave you to tell her yourself, Frank.”
 
“Well, mother, I depute you to tell her now, and pray do it without delay. I offered to give her up a short time ago, but she refused to listen to me.”
 
“I’m glad to hear it,” replied the widow with a smile. “I always thought her a good, sensible girl.”
 
“Hm! so did I,” said Frank, “and something more.”
 
Once again he became silent, and, as an inevitable consequence, fell fast asleep. In which satisfactory state we will leave him while we run briefly over the events of his subsequent history.
 
In direct opposition to the opinion of all his doctors, Frank not only recovered the use of all his limbs, but became as well and strong as ever—and the great fire in Tooley Street left no worse marks upon him than a few honourable scars.
 
His recovery, however, was tedious. The state of his health, coupled with the state of his fortune, rendered it advisable that he should seek the benefit of country air, so he resigned his situation in the London Fire Brigade—resigned it, we may add, with deep regret, for some of his happiest days had been spent in connection with that gallant corps.
 
Rambling and fishing among the glorious mountains of Wales with his brother Willie, he speedily regained health and strength. While wandering with delight through one of the most picturesque scenes of that wild and beautiful region, he came suddenly one day on a large white umbrella, under which sat a romantic-looking man, something between an Italian bandit and an English sportsman, who was deeply engrossed with a sheet of paper on which he was depicting one of the grandest views in the splendid pass of Llanberis. At this man Willie rushed with a shout of surprise, and found that he answered at once to the name of Fred Auberly! Fred was thrown into such a state of delight at the sight of his old friends that he capsized the white umbrella, packed up his paints, and accompanied them to their inn. Here, on being questioned, he related how that, while in Rome he had been seized with a fever which laid him prostrate for many weeks; that, on his recovery, he wrote to Loo and his father, but received no reply from either of them; that he afterwards spent some months in Switzerland, making more than enough of money with his brush to “keep the pot boiling,” and that, finally, he returned home to find that dear Loo was dead, and that the great Tooley Street fire had swept away his father’s premises and ruined him. As this blow had, however, been the means of softening his father, and effecting a reconciliation between them, he was rather glad than otherwise, he said, that the fire had taken place. Fred did not say—although he might have said it with truth—that stiff and stately Mr Auberly had been reduced almost to beggary, and that he was now dependent for a livelihood on the very palette and brushes which once he had so ruthlessly condemned to the flames!
 
After this trip to Wales, Frank returned home and told his mother abruptly that he meant to marry Emma Ward without delay, to which Mrs Willders replied that she thought he was quite right. As Emma appeared to be of the same mind the marriage took place in due course. That is to say, Miss Tippet and Emma managed to put it off as long as possible and to create as much delay as they could. When they had not the shadow of an excuse for further delay—not so much as a forgotten band or an omitted hook of the voluminous trousseau—the great event was allowed to go on—or, “to come off.”
 
Many and varied were the faces that appeared at the church on that auspicious occasion. Mr Auberly was there to give away the bride, and wonderfully cheerful he looked, t............