"Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bitter sense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifference and turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and I encountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistened with tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest, "'Stay, Mr. Mornington. Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for one little moment.' "'Let me go, Miss Moncton. You deceived me into the belief that my reception would have been very different--I feel that I have no business here.' "'That was your own fault, in deferring the _now_ of to-day, to the _future_ of the unknown to-morrow,' said Margaret, sadly. 'But you must stay; I insist upon your hearing me speak a few words before you leave this house.' "I remained silent and passive, and she continued--'There was a time, Philip, when your sister Margaret would not have asked anything of you in vain.' The tears flowed fast down her pale cheeks, and I felt the small hand which lay on mine tremble violently. "'Dear Miss Moncton,' said I, gently leading her to a seat, and taking one beside her, 'you must make some allowance for mortified pride and wounded feelings. Time has not in the least diminished the affection and respect I have ever felt for you, and which your present kindness is not at all likely to lessen. I should, however, be deeply concerned, if your condescension should draw down upon you the displeasure of your father.' "'Philip, I never do aught which I should be ashamed of my father witnessing. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, than to see him enter this room; and it is to lead you to him, that brought me here.' "'He has once forbidden me his presence,' cried I, rising from my seat; 'I shall seek an interview with him no more.' "'Let me seek it for you.' "'What good would it answer?' "Can you ask that question, Mr. Mornington? Remember all you owe to my father's kindness. I do not want to reproach you with benefits which he felt pleasure in conferring. But surely some feeling of gratitude is due from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I am certain he still loves; whom, if he could once see, would be as dear to him as ever.' "'Could I feel that his anger was just, there is no concession, however great, Miss Moncton, that I would hesitate to make: I love and revere Sir Alexander, but he has taken up idle prejudices against me, and I am too proud--obstinate, if you will--to ask his forgiveness for what I never can look upon as a fault.' "'One would think, Philip, that you were a Moncton, so hard and obdurate are their hearts,' said Margaret, weeping afresh. 'How gladly would I be the peacemaker, and reconcile you to each other, but you love strife for its own sake--are too proud to acknowledge an error. Philip,' she cried, passionately, 'do you remember my mother?'