"After my father was buried, Kingsley and I were naturally very anxious as to how we should live. Kingsley had a little property, but he owed money to tradesmen, which had to be paid. The settlement of these accounts swallowed up nearly every sovereign he possessed, and we had a hard fight before us, harder, indeed, than we imagined. I must tell you that Kingsley wrote to his parents without success. His father returned his letter without one word of acknowledgment. If I had thought I could do any good I would have gone to his mother, but I felt that it would only make matters worse, if they could be worse. What could I have expected from her but reproaches for separating her from her son? For I am the cause of that. If Kingsley had never seen me he would have been at peace with his parents, carrying out his father's desire that he should become a member of Parliament, and take a part in public affairs. Kingsley is fitted for it, indeed he is. He talks most beautifully. And I have spoiled it all, and have ruined a great career. I would not dare to say so to Kingsley; he would never forgive me for it. He tried hard to get some sort of work to do; he went out day after day, and used to return home so sad and wearied that it almost broke my heart to see him." "With but a little store of money," said Mr. Loveday, "such a state of affairs must soon come to an end." "We held out as long as we could; longer, indeed, than I thought possible. We parted with many little treasures--" "And all this time you never wrote to me!" exclaimed Mr. Loveday. "Remember, uncle, that I _had_ written to you and that you had not sent a line of congratulation upon our marriage." "A nice thing to congratulate you upon! But I was to blame, I admit it." "It was a delicate matter to Kingsley. 'Your uncle doesn't care to know me,' he said; and so it seemed. At length, uncle, we came to a great block, and we truly despaired. But there was a break in the clouds, uncle." "Good." "I am speaking of yesterday. A letter arrived for Kingsley from a friend to whom he had written, saying that a gentleman who intended to remain abroad for three or four months required a kind of secretary and companion, and that Kingsley could secure the situation if he cared for it. The gentleman was in Paris, and the letter contained a pass to Paris, dated yesterday. We had come to our last shilling, uncle, and this separation--I hope and trust not for long--was forced upon us. Kingsley managed to raise a little money, a very little, uncle, just enough to defray his expenses to Paris and to leave me a few shillings. So last evening, when we parted, it was agreed that I should come to London to-day, and appeal to you to give me shelter till Kingsley's return. That is all, uncle. Will you?" "Yes, Nansie," said Mr. Loveday, "I will keep the promise I made to my dead brother." Nansie took his hand and kissed it, and then burst into tears. CHAPTER XX.