ss to us He puts the kindness into the heart of a
fellow-man,--perhaps the last fellow-man we should have thought of; but
in blessing him we thank God who inspired him. Now, my dear friends, I
know that you all three suspect me of being the agent whom God chose for
His benefits. You fancy that it was from me came the loan which enabled
you to leave Graveleigh and settle here. You are mistaken,--you look
incredulous."

"It could not be the Squire," exclaimed Jessie. "Miss Travers assured
me that it was neither he nor herself. Oh, it must be you, sir. I beg
pardon, but who else could it be?"

"Your husband shall guess. Suppose, Will, that you had behaved ill
to some one who was nevertheless dear to you, and on thinking over it
afterwards felt very sorry and much ashamed of yourself, and suppose
that later you had the opportunity and the power to render a service to
that person, do you think you would do it?"

"I should be a bad man if I did not."

"Bravo! And supposing that when the person you thus served came to know
it was you who rendered the service, he did not feel thankful, he did
not think it handsome of you, thus to repair any little harm he might
have done you before, but became churlish and sore and cross-grained,
and with a wretched false pride said that because he had offended you
once he resented your taking the liberty of befriending him now, would
you not think that person an ungrateful fellow; ungrateful not only to
you his fellow-man,--that is of less moment,--but ungrateful to the
God who put it into your heart to be His human agent in the benefit
received?"

"Well, sir, yes, certainly," said Will, with all the superior refinement
of his intellect to that of Jessie, unaware of what Kenelm was driving
at; while Jessie, pressing her hands tightly together, turned pale,
and with a frightened hurried glance towards Will's face, answered,
impulsively,--

"Oh, Mr. Chillingly, I hope you are not thinking, not speaking, of Mr.
Bowles?"

"Whom else should I think or speak of?"

Will rose nervously from his chair, all his features writhing.

"Sir, sir, this is a bitter blow,--very bitter, very."

Jessie rushed to Will, flung her arms round him and sobbed. Kenelm
turned quietly to old Mrs. Somers, who had suspended the work on which
since supper she had been employed, knitting socks for the baby,--

"My dear Mrs. Somers, what is the good of being a grandmother and
knitting socks for baby grandchildren