"Not at all, sir. There's been a wrong done that must be righted; and before we come to the way of that, there's more to say. When my girl ran away from her home I was for a long time fairly mad, and was ready to strike both him and her dead at my feet if I had the chance. I was as bitter against her as against him; and if I'd known what I know now, there would have been a case in the papers, and the boys in the streets screaming out the news. But I couldn't discover who the man was; all that reached me was through hearsay from one of her girl companions, who had happened to see her in the company of a man they called a gentleman. They didn't know who he was any more than I did; and when I made up my mind that my girl had been brought to shame, I swore that she should never darken my doors again. A good many weeks passed by, and my feelings against my girl got harder instead of softer; and then, sir, the usual thing happened." "I understand," said Mr. Hollingworth, "as little of what you mean by 'the usual thing happened,' as I do of how the story you are telling can possibly affect me." "A little more patience, sir, and it will be clear to you. The usual thing is, that the man who wronged my child deserted her." "Ah!" "She was left pretty well shipwrecked in this big city of cruelty. Where should she turn to? Where do they all turn to in their thoughts? To the home they have brought disgrace upon; to the father and mother whose hearts they have broken. But my girl was afraid to come to me. She had somehow heard that I had sworn she should never cross my threshold again; that I had sworn to strike her down dead if she ever came before me again. So she hid herself and her shame, and fell into a fever, and was close to the death I had sworn against her. I knew nothing of it; the news didn't reach my ears, but it reached the ears of the angel woman I spoke of, Mrs. Manners. The way of it was that, thinking she hadn't many hours to live, my girl wrote a letter to one whom she loved and honored, a girl of her own age, sweet, and loving, and good, Miss Hester Manners. 'Dear Hester,' my girl wrote, 'come to me, if only for a minute, and give me one kind look before I die. Heaven will reward you for it.' There was more in the letter that I won't trouble you with. Miss Hester, as was right and proper, showed her mother the letter, and her mother, as was right and proper, said, 'My dear, _I_ will go and see the poor girl.' Heaven bless her for her merciful act all the days of her life! She is poorer than I am by a long way, and has had such a battle to fight as few women have, and has fought it in a way that no other woman could. I have been pretty much of a careless, selfish man, I can see that now; not through her telling me of it; no, sir; but through her ways, somehow, that I've seen so much of lately. I've been neglectful of my duty, though I've led an honest life, which is about the best that can be said about me,