"But, Ande," interrupted the old rector, as he placed his arm around his shoulder in the same, affectionate manner as in the olden days, and with kind, loving tones resumed, "If Christ had felt that way to us, where would we be?" The old parson preached one of the most appealing sermons, then and there, that he had ever delivered. Concluding, he said, quoting the words of Scripture: "'Ye have heard that it hath been said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; but I say unto ye, resist not evil. Ye have heard that it hath been said, ye shall love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy; but I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you,--that ye may be the children of your Father in heaven.' 'Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.'" "Would it not be hypocritical to show kindness, when you are bitter with revenge within?" "No; by showing kindness, even though you do not feel it within, yet nevertheless it has a healthy action on the soul. Do a kindness and you grow kind. We become what we do, my lad. Do it now, not because of your feelings, but because the Lord commanded it. And by and by you will do kindness to an enemy because your own heart commands it." "I will go in the morning." "And God will bless you, my son," said the old rector, as he parted from him and wended his way home. There, the parson mentioned the matter to his wife, Harriet, with some doubt as to the issue. "I fear me, Harriet, it is like sending a fire-brand to quench a fire-brand." Andrew Trembath was true to his promise, for that week saw him in London, actively pushing the search. Hearing of a midnight brawl, in which Richard was engaged, and which was publicly published in the newspapers, he sought that quarter, but Richard, fearing perhaps the police, had fled. His father had also heard of the brawl. It was the last of a series of crushing disgraces on the part of his son that sent Sir James into the grave. Ande did not give up the search, but Parliament convening, he was forced to give more time to other affairs. It was in the early hours of the morning when one of the night sessions of Parliament adjourned, and Andrew Trembath, tired of the stupid, blocking tactics of those opposed to reform, was wending his way home to his rented quarters in Portman Square. The streets were deserted and he hastened along absorbed in his thoughts. A figure stole out from the shadow of some buildings in his rear. There was a quick leap, the glitter of steel in the air, and then Ande felt a stinging sensation in his shoulder. Like a flash he turned and had his assailant pinioned in an iron grip. He struggled to release himself, but to no avail. The knife dropped with a clang to the pavement and Ande kicked it from him. The light of a street lamp flashed on the would-be assassin's features.