ce of the
sermon.

Presently he heard the landlady's shrill voice on the stair, pursuing
somebody who ascended, and Sampson rushed into the room, followed by the
sobbing woman.

At seeing Harry, Sampson started, and the landlady stopped. Absorbed
in her own domestic cares, she had doubtless forgot that a visitor was
awaiting her lodger. "There's only thirteen pound in the house, and he
will be here at one, I tell you!" she was bawling out, as she pursued
her victim.

"Hush, hush! my good creature!" cries the gasping chaplain, pointing
to Harry, who rose from the window-seat. "Don't you see Mr. Warrington?
I've business with him--most important business. It will be all right, I
tell you!" And he soothed and coaxed Mrs. Landlady out of the room, with
the crowd of anxious little ones hanging at her coats.

"Sampson, I have come to ask your pardon again," says Mr. Warrington,
rising up. "What I said to-day to you was very cruel and unjust, and
unlike a gentleman."

"Not a word more, sir," says the other, coldly and sadly, bowing and
scarcely pressing the hand which Harry offered him.

"I see you are still angry with me," Harry continues.

"Nay, sir, an apology is an apology. A man of my station can ask for no
more from one of yours. No doubt you did not mean to give me pain. And
what if you did? And you are not the only one of the family who has," he
said, as he looked piteously round the room. "I wish I had never known
the name of Esmond or Castlewood," he continues, "or that place yonder
of which the picture hangs over my fireplace, and where I have buried
myself these long, long years. My lord, your cousin, took a fancy to me,
said he would make my fortune, has kept me as his dependant till fortune
has passed by me, and now refuses me my due."

"How do you mean your due, Mr. Sampson?" asks Harry.

"I mean three years' salary which he owes me as chaplain of Castlewood.
Seeing you could give me no money, I went to his lordship this morning
and asked him. I fell on my knees, and asked him, sir. But his lordship
had none. He gave me civil words, at least (saving your presence, Mr.
Warrington), but no money--that is, five guineas, which he declared was
all he had and which I took. But what are five guineas amongst so many
Oh, those poor little children! those poor little children!"

"Lord Castlewood said he had no money?" cries out Harry. "He won eleven
hundred pounds, yesterday, of me at piquet--which I paid him