"You never sent us a paper, Father." "You wouldn't have read it if I had sent it. I knew Philip Brotherton would read every word, so it went to him. I was a little astonished at myself, for I did not know that I could bring out the very truth the way I did; but I saw Edgar watching me, and I saw no one else; and I just talked to him, as I used to do,--good, plain, household words, with a bit of Yorkshire now and then to give them pith and power. I was cheered to the echo, and if Edgar, when I used to talk to him for his good, had only cheered me on my hearthstone as he cheered me in the Commons, there wouldn't have been any ill blood between us. Afterwards, in the crush of the lobby, I saw Edgar a little before me; and Mr. O'Connell walked up to him, and said, 'Atheling, you ought to take lessons from your father, he strikes every nail on the head. In your case, the old cock crows, but the young one has not learnt his lesson.' I was just behind, and I heard every word, and I was ready to answer; but Edgar did my work finely.' 'He should not have noticed him,' said Mrs. Atheling. 'Ah, but he did! He said, "Mr. O'Connell, I will trouble you to speak of Squire Atheling respectfully. He is not old; he is in the prime of life; and, in all that makes youth desirable, he is twenty-five years younger than you are. I think you have felt his spurs once, and I would advise you to beware of them." And what O'Connell answered I cannot tell, but it would be up to mark, I can warrant that! I slipped away before I was noticed, and I am not ashamed to say I was pleased with what I had heard. "Not as old as O'Connell by twenty-five years!" I laughed to myself all the way home; and, in the dark of the night, I could not help thinking of Edgar's angry face, and the way he stood up for me. I do think, Maude, that somehow it must have been thy fault we had that quarrel--I mean to say, that if thou hadst stood firm by me,--that is, if thou hadst--' 'John, go on and do not bother thyself to make excuses. Was that the end of it?' 'In a way. The next afternoon I was sitting by the fireside having a quiet smoke, and thinking of the fine speech I had made, and if it would be safe to try again, when Dobson came in and said, "Squire, Mr. Edgar wishes to see you," and I said, "Very well, bring Mr. Edgar upstairs." I had thrown off my coat; but I had on one of my fine ruffled shirts and my best blue waistcoat, and so I didn't feel so very out of the way when Edgar came in with the loveliest young woman on his arm--except Kitty--that I ever set eyes on; and I was dumfounded when he brought her to me and said, "My dear Father, Annie Curzon, who has promised to be my wife, wants to know you and to love you." And the little thing--for she is but a sprite of a woman--laid her hand on my arm and looked at me; and what in heaven's name was I to do?' 'What did you do?'