“No,” he answered, coolly; “not until we have come to a better understanding with each other. It is easy for me to comprehend--indeed, I am partly acquainted with the fact--that you have left home for ever; that you are here residing in humble obscurity, for which you were never destined. In the person of your haughty father and your ridiculously proud mother, the world has turned its back upon you. It is for you to do the same upon it.” Helen frantically motioned to him to leave the room. Her whole frame was convulsed with violent emotion. “Go!” she cried, hoarsely; “go, insulting villain, go, or your continued presence will slay me! Oh, is there no help near to save me?” As if in answer to her appeal, the door opened, and Mr. Bantom, with a slightly excited manner, looked in. He had visited his friend in “pupple,” who had been the medium of Malcolm Grahame’s offer to Lotte. After shaking the man’s senses almost out of him, he extorted from him that the “gent” who had made a tool of him lived next door to Mr. Wilton’s residence. Bantom went there, and had an interview with Whelks, who, finding that Bantom intended mischief, transferred to Vane’s shoulders the responsibility of having insulted Lotte, believing that Mr. Bantom would never find him, and if he did, he would not dare to touch him. He had mistaken his man. Bantom had hunted Vane down, and had caught him here. “Beg your pardon, mum,” he said to Helen, with a bow, “but I wants a word with this feller here.” Lester Vane turned fiercely towards him. “You dirty ruffian!” he exclaimed, “how dare you intrude here? Leave the room this instant!” Mr. Bantom knitted his brows. “Your name’s Mr. Lister Wane, ain’t it?” he said, with a growl that meant mischief. Lester started. “If you wish to speak to me, fellow, wait until I leave here,” he answered, hastily. “But your name is Mr. Lister Wane, ain’t it? I ask you that,” persisted Bantom. “It is, fool! Go out of the room.” “I shall, an’ you with me.” “What do you mean, scoundrel?” “That I don’t talk to you here, but where you’ll feel every word I sez,” responded Bantom. With a giant’s grip, he caught Vane by the collar and wrist, and dragged him out of the room with rough violence, but with as much ease as if he had been a child. Helen Grahame, with hysteric joy, saw herself thus unexpectedly relieved from the presence of the base and heartless villain who had taken advantage of her defenceless position to so basely insult her. But the scene had been too severe in the emotions it occasioned, and she had a gradually fading sense that there was a violent dashing and crashing down the staircase, a terrible disturbance in the street, which died away, leaving her in a swoon. CHAPTER XIII.--A SISTER’S LOVE His years but young, but his experience old; His head unmellow’d, but his judgment ripe, And in a word (for far behind his worth