leases you. But, woman, listen
to me. I shall never request you for one farthing of money again. No
necessity of others shall make me do it. You shall never again refuse
me, for I shall never give you the opportunity."

He turned hastily from the room, with a face on which the deep emotion
of an aroused spirit was depicted strongly.

In the lobby he met his son, Henry Lawson. The young man paused,
something struck by the excited appearance of his father.

"Henry," said the father, abruptly, "I want some money; there is a
poor woman whom I wish to relieve--will you give me some money for
her?"

"Willingly, my dear father; but have you asked Augusta? You know
I have given her the management of the money-matters of the
establishment, she is so very clever and economical."

"She has neither charity, nor pity, nor kindness; she saves from
me--she saves from the starving poor--she saves, that she may waste
large sums on parties and dresses. I shall never more ask her for
money--give me a few shillings. My God! the father begs of the son for
what was his own--for what he toiled all his youth--for what he gave
up out of trusting love to that son. Henry, my son, I am sick of
asking and begging--ay, sick--sick; but give me some shillings now."

"You asked Augusta, then," said Henry, drawing out his purse, and
glancing with some apprehension to the drawing-room door.

"Henry," cried Mrs. Lawson, appearing at that instant with a face
inflamed with anger--"Henry, _I_ would not give your father any money
to-day, because he is so very extravagant in giving it all away."

Henry was in the act of opening his purse; he glanced apprehensively
to Mrs. Lawson; his face had a mild and passive expression, which was
a true index of his yielding and easily-governed nature. His features
were small, delicate, and almost effeminately handsome; and in every
lineament a want of decision and force of character was visible.

"Henry, give me some shillings, I say--I am your father--I have a just
right."

"Yes, yes, surely" said Henry, making a movement to open his purse.

"Henry, I do not wish you to give him money to waste in charity, as he
calls it."

Mrs. Lawson gave her husband an emphatic, but, at the same time,
cunningly caressing and smiling look.

"Henry, I am your father--give me the money I want."

"Augusta, my love, you know it was all his," said Henry, going close
to her, and speaking in a kind of whisper.

"My dearest He