as
we were in looking at them.

"From the cherished memories of former years, I was recalled by the
entrance of the servant, who, with an air of rude familiarity, told
me--'that Sir Alexander Moncton would never be at home to _Mister
Philip Mornington_.'

"Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bitter
sense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifference
and turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and I
encountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistened
with tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest,

"'Stay, Mr. Mornington. Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for one
little moment.'

"'Let me go, Miss Moncton. You deceived me into the belief that my
reception would have been very different--I feel that I have no
business here.'

"'That was your own fault, in deferring the _now_ of to-day, to the
_future_ of the unknown to-morrow,' said Margaret, sadly. 'But you must
stay; I insist upon your hearing me speak a few words before you leave
this house.'

"I remained silent and passive, and she continued--'There was a time,
Philip, when your sister Margaret would not have asked anything of you
in vain.' The tears flowed fast down her pale cheeks, and I felt the
small hand which lay on mine tremble violently.

"'Dear Miss Moncton,' said I, gently leading her to a seat, and taking
one beside her, 'you must make some allowance for mortified pride and
wounded feelings. Time has not in the least diminished the affection
and respect I have ever felt for you, and which your present kindness
is not at all likely to lessen. I should, however, be deeply concerned,
if your condescension should draw down upon you the displeasure of your
father.'

"'Philip, I never do aught which I should be ashamed of my father
witnessing. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, than to see him
enter this room; and it is to lead you to him, that brought me here.'

"'He has once forbidden me his presence,' cried I, rising from my seat;
'I shall seek an interview with him no more.'

"'Let me seek it for you.'

"'What good would it answer?'

"Can you ask that question, Mr. Mornington? Remember all you owe to my
father's kindness. I do not want to reproach you with benefits which he
felt pleasure in conferring. But surely some feeling of gratitude is
due from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I am
certain he still loves; whom, if he