and shy, I looked out for letters; none came, and if she wrote any she has kept it secret from me. Now, sir, with the new disgrace threatening us that only a few days ago came, to my knowledge, I was more determined than ever to find out the man who must do her justice. I had never pried into the little box of clothes she brought home with her, and that she kept always locked in her bedroom, but I thought myself justified now in opening it unknown to her. It wasn't difficult; it is a cheap, common box, and almost any key the size of the lock would open it. I found no letters there, but a portrait, with a name at the back in my girl's writing. I went to her straight, and told her what I had done. 'Is this the man?' I asked her. She said, 'Yes,' in a whisper. 'Did he give it to you himself?' I asked. 'No,' she answered, 'I took it without his knowing, and he doesn't know now that I've got it.' That shows the wickedness and artfulness of the villain--I beg your pardon, sir, for letting the right word slip." "Why beg my pardon?" asked Mr. Hollingworth, coldly. "Can't you guess what I'm coming to, sir?" "Indeed, I cannot; and I may add that up to this point, although I sympathize with you in your trouble, and wish it were in my power to relieve you, I have not the remotest idea why you have inflicted your story upon me." "Is that true?" "As this is the last time you will have the opportunity of speaking to me, I forgive the impertinence. It is quite true." "But you sympathize with me, you say?" "I have said so. You are yourself aware that your unhappy story is one which many poor fathers can relate; but that does not render it less detestable. You seem to be mistaken in me, my friend. You present yourself here to me, and plainly, although not in the exact words, you say, 'I am a working-man, and therefore an honest man. You are a gentleman, and therefore a scoundrel. I credit myself with virtue; I credit you with vice. I am a worthy member of society; you are an infamous one.'" And now Mr. Hollingworth spoke with real dignity: "You are absolutely and fatally in error. The pernicious views you have in effect expressed are, I am well aware, shared by many of your class. They are erroneous views. Among the class I may be supposed to represent are a number of very worthy and honest persons who are really earnest in their desire and endeavors to set right what is wrong in society. I believe myself to be one of these persons; I believe my son to be another; and it is you and such as you who throw obstacles in our way. There is something too much of this parade of exceptional virtues on the part of such demagogues as yourself. Have I made myself clear to you?" "Quite clear, sir," replied Mr. Parkinson, frankly and respectfully. He had listened with eager attention and interest to Mr. Hollingworth, from whose speech he seemed to derive satisfaction. "And I am free to admit that there is some truth in what you have said."