shining example amid the follies and frivolities of fashionable life. What were the grounds of his anger against her and his son? That Kingsley, meeting her, had fallen in love with her, and had wooed her honorably, and that she, urged in some degree by youth and love, and in some degree by Kingsley's confident view of the future, had accepted him and become his wife. How, then, was Nansie to be blamed? How had she merited the lot to which he had condemned her? And wherein lay Kingsley's misconduct? In that having wooed and won a lady, he had held an opinion of his father which placed Mr. Manners above the sordid considerations of a sordid age. That surely was not a crime; but the father and judge had viewed it as such, and had meted out a cruel punishment. Kingsley might have acted differently; he might have acted towards Nansie as Mark Inglefield had acted towards the working-man, whose visit to Mr. Hollingworth had brought about disclosures which had led--and perhaps happily led--to the contemplations in which Mr. Manners indulged as he stood in the dark night with Mr. Parkinson. The conversation between them had been continued, and Mr. Manners, anxious to obtain as much information as it was in Mr. Parkinson's power to impart, had been told of Kingsley's connection with the Wilberforce Club, and of the project to make him president in the place of Mr. Bartholomew. This project Kingsley himself had relinquished, further experience of the violent views of his partisans having convinced him that their methods were not such as he could approve of. Mr. Parkinson, being led on by Mr. Manners, dilated at some length on working-men's politics in connection with Kingsley. "Not so easily led as you would imagine, sir," observed Mr. Parkinson, referring to Kingsley's characteristics. "Sympathizing with all who suffer from unjust and unequal laws, but stanch in his belief that those wrongs can only be set right by temperate means. Mr. Kingsley Manners has a will of his own." The father had already been compelled to acknowledge that. Strikingly different as he and his son were in their dispositions, they resembled each other in one respect; having resolved upon what they deemed right to do, they walked straight forward, regardless of consequences. Kingsley had done this in his relations with Nansie, and Mr. Manners had done this in his relations with his son. But Kingsley had sacrificed everything, his father nothing; and yet, of the two, Mr. Manners could not help confessing that the lot of the man who had cheerfully embraced poverty was the higher and nobler of the two. "And now," said Mr. Parkinson, after further questions had been asked and answered, "I've told you all I know about Mr. and Mrs. Manners and their daughter, and I should like to know what good it is going to do me." "I do not follow you," said Mr. Manners.