CHAPTER XXXII.

SWEET RECOMPENSE. The next morning St. Udo Brand lay impatiently waiting for his dear young nurse, and scowling at the stupid negress, who was putting his room to rights, when a visitor entered, and made his way up to the sick man. A haggard-looking old gentleman, with pale, yellow cheeks, pendulous and flaccid--eyebrows which bristled like furze on the brow of a beetling crag, and lack-luster eyes, which glistened like the dull waters at the foot of it. "My service to you, sir," said he, with an old-fashioned bow;…