words, to certain ruin under the training of such a man? The thought was not to be endured. No, he must make the sacrifice. While these things were passing through his mind, his companion looked about him with cool indifference, kicking the leaves and sticks at his feet, and whistling in a low tone some operatic air. Then he broke silence. "Which is it to be, Mr Huntingdon?" he asked. "Am I to keep little George, or do you wish to have him back again? You know the conditions; and you may be sure that I should not have taken the trouble to meet you here if I had any thoughts of changing my mind." Amos looked sadly and kindly at him, and then said, "And can you really, Mr Vivian, justify this conduct of yours to yourself? Can you feel really happy in the course you are pursuing? Oh! will you not let me persuade you--for my poor sister's sake, for your own sake--to leave your present mode of life, and to seek your happiness in the only path which God can bless? I would gladly help you in any way I could--" But here his companion broke in, scorn on his lip, and a fierce malignant anger glaring from his eyes. "Stop, stop, Mr Huntingdon! enough of that. We are not come here for a preaching or a prayer- meeting. The die has long since been cast, and the Rubicon crossed. You can take your course; I will take mine. If you have nothing more agreeable to say to me, we had better each go our own way, and leave matters as they are." "No," said Amos, firmly but sorrowfully; "it shall not be so. I promise that you shall have my cheque for fifty pounds when you have placed little George in my hands, and on the understanding that you pledge your word, as a man of honour, to leave the children with me unmolested." "Exactly so," replied the other; "and now, as a little matter of business, I shall be obliged by your making out the cheque to `John Smith or Bearer,'--that, certainly, will tell no tales." "And where shall I send it to meet you? to what address?" "To no address at all, if you please. I will be myself at the spot where the four lanes meet near your house, to the north of the Manor; it is about a quarter of a mile from you. Of course you know the place well. I will be there at five o'clock to-morrow morning, before the general world is astir. You can either meet me there yourself, or send some trusty person who is sure not to know me. I need hardly say that any attempt to surprise or lay violent hands on me on that occasion would be fruitless, as I should be well on my guard; and, further, should there be any foul play of any kind, you may depend upon my removing _both_ my children from your cottage at the earliest opportunity."