These two were making themselves popular among the ladies by their active and polite attentions, yet not more so than the gentleman who now lifts his little Albert into the carriage and kisses him fondly. Arthur Franklyn, while escorting the various lady visitors through the crowd, has lost none of the pleasing, attractive manner which made him so courted and flattered in Melbourne. And yet those who knew him in his gay and thoughtless days, can detect a calm steadiness of purpose in the still handsome face indicating a change, not, however, to his disadvantage. Arthur Franklyn had risen from his bed of sickness humbled and subdued. By the advice of his first wife's friends he devoted a portion of the 2000_l._, which so unexpectedly became his legally after his wife's death, to the liquidation of his debts in Melbourne. Released from debt, and, above all, from the tortures of conscience and the consequences of his sin, he quickly recovered his health and spirits. The remainder of the 2000_l._ he invested in a partnership with a rising firm in the city, and so steadily and cleverly have his business habits and tact been carried out, that the prospects of the firm are brighter than ever. With relief from debt, that foe to peace of mind, a quiet conscience, and hopes of prosperity in business, his constitution, though greatly shaken, has recovered its elasticity, and the glow of health adds no little to the changed appearance of Arthur Franklyn. He and his children still reside at Kilburn, indeed, now that they are about to lose Henry, neither Kate Marston nor her uncle can endure the thought of parting with them, and the children cling to her as to a second mother. Kate is still supreme manager of the domestic arrangements, in which she is willingly assisted by Clara, when not occupied with her sisters at their usual studies. A graduate of the university has been engaged to supply the place of Henry Halford, and the old Grange will subside into its usual routine when the bustle caused by this wedding shall be over. Three carriages are still waiting for their occupants--Mr. Armstrong's and two others. One of them bears on its panels the coronet of an earl, and on another may be seen the mitre of a bishop.