He was troubled at the signs of seething discontent and unrest which were visible; and he succeeded in winning a promise from his father that he would consider one or two suggestions that he made. He had mentioned Hancourt, and although Mr. Knight would not promise to reinstate him, he commissioned his son to visit him for the purpose of discovering whether he would return if an offer were made him, and, accordingly, on Saturday afternoon, Arthur made his way to Hancourt’s residence. He was not at home, but as his wife expected him shortly, he waited. Mrs. Hancourt was a good-looking woman, with a pleasant face, and with lady-like manners. The home was the picture of neatness and comfort, and it was evident that its mistress was a person of refined tastes and habits. The arrangements of the house were artistic even, and there was a warmth and homeliness about them which were to Arthur very attractive. And Mrs. Hancourt could talk well. She had read books, and thought about them. She had ideas of her own, and a happy way of expressing them. She was a good listener, too, and anxious to learn; and a very delightful half-hour was passed by Arthur, who felt as if he had found a little haven of refuge after a sea of trouble. Mrs. Hancourt had two beautiful children—the one, a boy between seven and eight; the other, a girl between five and six. A lovely picture they made, standing together and looking through their blue eyes into Arthur’s face with the frank fearlessness which characterises English children. They came very demurely to shake hands with Arthur, and the little girl, whom they called Sissie, lifted her pretty face to be kissed, and was perfectly willing to sit upon his knee, and to be told about little girls whose faces were black. But after a time, when the conversation became uninteresting, she said, “I like you, Mr. Arthur—you are a nice man; but I like my brother best. Please set me down.” And the children were soon happily at play together by the window. After a time Mrs. Hancourt was called away, and Arthur took a book, and appeared to be engrossed by it. In reality, he was being greatly entertained by the little ones. “Now, Sissie, you are a prisoner, you know; the giant has locked you up, but I am a knight coming to deliver you. Look at me through the back of the chair—that is a strong iron gate, a fortress. I shall climb over the bars of the gate, and mount the tower, and pick you up, and carry you off, and make you my wife.” “And then shall I crown you with flowers?” “Oh, yes, of course! Knights are always crowned with flowers.” “Are they the crowns they wear in heaven, Geoff? Jane told me we should all be crowned in heaven.” “I don’t think they are flowers—they are gold crowns they have there.” “Are the gold crowns heavy?” “I suppose so; gold is the heaviest metal, I know, for I learnt that in my lesson book.” “Oh, then, how their heads must ache! But perhaps they haven’t any heads in heaven.”