n growing up round them, to work and want in their turn; live,
with the poor man's parish prison to look to as the end, when hunger and
labor have done their worst! Was God's beautiful earth made to hold such
misery as this? I can hardly think of it, I can hardly speak of it, even
now, with dry eyes!"

His head sank on his breast. He waited--mastering his emotion before he
spoke again. Now, at last, she knew him once more. Now he was the man,
indeed, whom she had expected to see. Unconsciously she sat listening,
with her eyes fixed on his face, with his heart hanging on his words,
in the very attitude of the by-gone day when she had heard him for the
first time!

"I did all I could to plead for the helpless ones," he resumed. "I went
round among the holders of the land to say a word for the tillers of the
land. 'These patient people don't want much' (I said); 'in the name of
Christ, give them enough to live on!' Political Economy shrieked at the
horrid proposal; the Laws of Supply and Demand veiled their majestic
faces in dismay. Starvation wages were the right wages, I was told. And
why? Because the laborer was obliged to accept them! I determined, so
far as one man could do it, that the laborer should _not_ be obliged to
accept them. I collected my own resources--I wrote to my friends--and
I removed some of the poor fellows to parts of England where their work
was better paid. Such was the conduct which made the neighborhood too
hot to hold me. So let it be! I mean to go on. I am known in London; I
can raise subscriptions. The vile Laws of Supply and Demand shall find
labor scarce in that agricultural district; and pitiless Political
Economy shall spend a few extra shillings on the poor, as certainly as I
am that Radical, Communist, and Incendiary--Julian Gray!"

He rose--making a little gesture of apology for the warmth with which
he had spoken--and took a turn in the room. Fired by _his_ enthusiasm,
Mercy followed him. Her purse was in her hand, when he turned and faced
her.

"Pray let me offer my little tribute--such as it is!" she said, eagerly.

A momentary flush spread over his pale cheeks as he looked at the
beautiful compassionate face pleading with him.

"No! no!" he said, smiling; "though I am a parson, I don't carry the
begging-box everywhere." Mercy attempted to press the purse on him. The
quaint humor began to twinkle again in his eyes as he abruptly drew back
from it. "Don't tempt me!" he said. "Th