“There is far more than I am able to express,” said she, warmly. “Just remember, for a moment, that of all the laws you great and wise men are making, over which you rant and wrangle, and assail each other so vindictively, how few ever touch the interests or descend to the fortunes of those for whom you assume to make them,--that the craftiest devices of your legislation never uproot ah old prejudice nor disturb an antiquated superstition; while I, and such as I,--and there need be nothing more humble,--can by a little timely help in trouble--a little care, or even a little counsel--comfort many a failing heart, cheer up many a sinking spirit, and, better still, do good service by teaching the poor man that he is of one family with those better off than himself, and that he is not an outcast because he is lowly!” As Mary went on, her eyes shone more brilliantly, and her cheeks glowed, till Nelligan forgot even the words she spoke in admiration of the speaker. “But here comes my uncle,” cried she, hastily, “to rescue you from further amplification of the theme. Come in, uncle,”--for Martin was already about to retire,--“it is Mr. Nelligan, who wants to speak to you.” “Oh, I was in terror of a regular morning visitor!” said Martin, shaking the young man's hand cordially. “They didn't tell me you were here.” “I came, sir,” said Joseph, hesitatingly, “to rectify what might, perhaps, require correction in an observation I made last night. We were talking about the proper basis of a representation--” “My dear boy,” broke in Martin, laughingly, “there's nothing kills me like asking me to go over the past, either in reading an old letter or recalling an old conversation. And as to calling on me to justify something I once defended in argument, I 'd give up the cause at once, and say I was all wrong, in preference.” “Then I need not fear you will hold me responsible--” “Not for anything, except your pledge to dine here tomorrow at seven.” Notwithstanding all the ease and frankness of Martin's manner--and as manner it was perfect--the young man felt far from satisfied. His want of breeding--that cruel want strong enough to mar the promise of high ability, and even impair the excellence of many a noble nature--seemed to hold him fast bound to the object of his visit. He had come for an explanation, and he couldn't go away without it. Mary read his difficulty at once, and as she passed him to leave the room, said in a low voice, “To-morrow evening.” Nelligan started at the words, and his face became scarlet. What could she have meant? Was it that she wished him to come, and had thus condescended to remind him of his promise? or was it to suggest a more fitting moment to return to the late discussion? “Are you coming to luncheon, Nelligan?” said Martin, rising.