“Dear sir!” exclaimed Flora, softly, “you have been startled and shocked by what has happened. Mr. Gomer, though strange in his manner, is at heart generous and noble; you wrong him, if you imagine he entertains any hostile feelings towards you.” “How, can you tell?” inquired her father, sharply. “You know not who he is; you cannot, more than myself, even conjecture what influences have animated him in appearing as my friend, and acting as--as----” He really could not get his lips to shape the word “enemy.” “Acting still as your friend, I hope and believe,” observed Vivian, as the old man paused. Wilton turned quickly, and gazed upon him with an air of surprise. He had not yet collected his scattered memories. “Why are you here, sir?” he asked with knitted brow. “Dear papa!” ejaculated Flora, with an appealing aspect, for she was grieved at the harshness of his tone of voice and the sternness of his manner. She remembered how much both were indebted to Vivian. “Silence!” said her father, brusquely. “Have you so soon forgotten the object of the visit of Mr. Riversdale and myself?” interrogated Vivian, gently. Old Wilton placed his hands on his brow and reflected. “True, I remember now,” he exclaimed, sarcastically. “You came hither to oust a rival”--he looked around the library--“and I presume you have succeeded to your satisfaction.” “And to yours, I hope, sir,” responded Hal, calmly. “To mine?--oh, of course to mine; to be sure, to mine and my daughter’s. You forgot her, did you not, Mr. Vivian?” he asked with a sneer. “No, sir,” replied Hal, emphatically. “Miss Wilton was my first consideration in performing the duty I undertook.” “Ah! to be sure; I had forgotten that,” said the old man, in the same jibing tone. “I ought to remember that you were not wholly disinterested in the part you have played.”