"My father was not at home, and I came away." He pressed his hand upon his eyes, and a long silence ensued. They looked at him anxiously, and Florence, her finger at her lips, warned them not to speak. Removing his hand, he proceeded: "I ought to tell you now why I went to see my father. Had I been well I should have spoken of it before. Even you, Florence, have not heard what I am about to say. Dick, I can trust you not to speak of this to any one." "You may trust me thoroughly, Reginald." "I know, I know. In my dear wife's eyes you are the soul of honour and faithfulness, and in my eyes, also, Dick. It is my hope that we shall always be firm friends." With but one thought in his mind, the peace and happiness of the woman he loved, Dick answered, "And mine." "Thank you," said Reginald, gravely. "What I wish to tell you commences with my child-life. My mother, when she married my father, brought him a small fortune, and she had money, also, in her own right. Young as I was, I knew that she was not happy, and that there were differences between her and my father, arising partly from his endeavours to obtain the sole control of every shilling she possessed. There were probably other causes, but they did not come to my knowledge. My mother's refusal to comply with his demands was prompted by her solicitude for my future. She was the best of women, and never uttered one word of reproach against my father; she suffered in silence, as only women can, and she found some solace in the love she bore for me and in the love I bore for her. We were inseparable, and, occupying the home with my father, we lived a life apart from him. He had but one aim, the amassing of money, and there was no sympathy between us. I hope there are not many homes in which such estrangement exists. She died when I was ten, and I lost the one dear friend I had in the world. In our last embrace on her deathbed she said to me, in a whisper, 'Promise me that when you are a man--a happy man, I fervently pray--you will not become a money-lender.' I gave her the promise, and an abhorrence of the trade my father practised took deep root in me, and has grown stronger every year of my life. Over an open grave there should be no bitterness, and though my heart is sore I will strive to avoid it. My mother left me her little fortune, and appointed a trustee over whom, by ill chance, my father subsequently obtained great influence, and in the end had him completely in his power. This trustee died when I was twenty-two, and before then my inheritance was in my father's hands to deal with as he pleased. My mother's will was very precise. A certain sum every year was to be expended upon my education until I came of age, when the residue was to be handed to me to make a practical start in life. She named the schools and colleges in which I was to be educated, and when I was nineteen I was to spend the next two years in France and Germany and Italy, to perfect myself