miles off to see Padgett, the country attorney
and coal agent. Having seen Padgett, he posted
up to London and saw his ward. He came in
on him very hot, and very incoherent. The boy
wrapped an imaginary toga about him, and drew
himself up to meet the storm. " I don't believe
it," said Sir John, injudiciously, "not a word of
it. They have been making a fool of you, sir.
I wonder you have not more sense. You must be
watched like a child in the nursery. Pack up
your things, and come down with me to the
country. I'll expose these people."

"Never!" said the young lord, still in his
toga; " my word is pledged — the word of a
peer."

"The word of a noodle," roared Sir John.
"Don't spout in that fashion to me! Ah! I am
ashamed of you. An old stale bit of crust like
that — who has been kicking about the ball-rooms
for years."

"It's a shame to speak of a lady in that way,"
said the youth. " She loves me. I shall be of
age in a few months, and can do as I like."

With this tone in the discussion, of course no
progress was made. Sir John went away foaming,
and determined to " expose those people."

He was at a dinner-party that night, and, after
the dinner-party, " went on" moodily to some
"rout." There he saw Miss Manuel, who had
always a regard for " oldish" men. She was
always thus protesting against the cold and
Pagan system of modern manners, which carries
out the aged of the tribe and exposes them, as
they get helpless, on mountains, with a pot of
rice. She always fought the battle of the old,
and said how grateful they were for any consideration,
and so anxious to fit themselves to the times
that had left them behind, if the world would only
let them. This night she was flushed with victory,
having just returned from her Welsh expedition.

Sir John told her his troubles, working
himself into a perfect heat as he did so. "They
are a mere set of adventurers these Fermors,"
he said, "that should be exposed. I don't
see why I should be keeping them up. They
have always treated me scurvily, from the father
downwards. I was very near being taken in
myself by that scheming woman. She did her
best to catch me, but I had wit enough to escape
her." (It was so long ago, Sir John might safely
give out this new version.) "She was a fine
woman then, and I had a raging schoolboy's
fancy for her; and, ma'am, behaved nobly — nobly,
as it seems to me now — when she found she
could not get me, and took up with that stupid
blundering Fermor. I could have broken the
thing off in ten seconds; but I didn't. I said
nothing; no, not a word, and they were married."

Sir John had worked himself into a perfect
heat as he thought of his treatment.

Miss Manuel listened eagerly, and then said
suddenly, "I never heard. Do tell me, Sir John."

But Sir John had repented on the spot. It
was so long ago, he said; it was a mere story of
the day, and he wasn't sure that it was a story at
all. " Look at their ingratitude," he went on,
in a fresh burst ; " that poor devil, Pocock, who
has helped them through many a business, they
will do nothing for him— nothing whatever."

"It is very hard," said Miss Manuel; " you
know they are not friends of mine. It is no harm
to say that we have cause to regret an acquaintance
with that family. I am told it is not
considered a very serious thing now, and that the
young men of the day mean it for mere amusement.
But still, I cannot bring myself to know
Lady Laura, or to like her."

The allusion to Sir Hopkins made a deep im-
pression on Miss Manuel. She almost despised
that restless plotting spirit, and could scarcely
bring herself to think him of suificient dignity to
be the object even of punishment. She had
avoided him almost with contempt. Now she
sought him. She was struck by the decay and
blight that had settled on his face. " You have
quite given me up, Sir Hopkins," she said to him.
"There was a time when you used to come and
see me, and talk about your travels, and the
treaties, and wild natives. Come and see me
tomorrow."

The old intriguer, whose diplomatic heart was
made sick to death by hope deferred, and who
had furrows of sickly fretfulness and anxiety
marked on his cheeks, was glad to have an
opportunity to air his grievances — and came.

His hair was scattered and thin. " It is the
way of the world," he said, nervously (he was
only now finding out that way of the world)—
"always the way they use you when they don't
want you." (But had it not been Sir Hopkins's
own way to the world?) " I am sure a
man who had composed those Waipiti troubles
would have a claim. Why, old Lord Boldero
said to me, only this day, ' No fellow like you,
Pocock, for handling the natives!' His very
words, Miss Manuel! And that young conceited
Harding Hanaper, who can sit in an office easily
enough, and give pert answers easily enough
too, he tells me that he is afraid nothing can be
done for me."

"But," said Miss Manuel, gently, " you should
get your friends to work for you — the Fermors,
for instance."

"The Fermors!" said Sir Hopkins; "I would
die sooner than ask them for anything. You
don't know all I have done for those people—
the sacrifices, the trouble — and I have asked
them to use some little interest (and they can
work the Buryshaft influence well), and they
refused. You don't know what obligations they
are under to me."

"It is very hard," said Miss Manuel.

"Hard, it is monstrous!" he said, piteously.
"They talk of being old! Look at Boldero, he
is ten years older than I am, but they sent him
out. Of course they did. He has married into
the office, and they will do any job for him. But
it is always the way and the way of the world."

It was pitiable to hear this worldling so severe
on the world he had loved and served. As Miss