his task, but quietly labelling
and tying up a pile of documents, placed it in its proper pigeon hole,
and went on with methodical exactness to the next. They were a strange
group. The man of business in his chair, pursuing his work as if no
other were present, but observing all that took place nevertheless; the
nobleman in the prime of glorious manhood, noble, as far as physical
beauty could go; handsome, rich, accomplished, intellectual, but
distorted as that face was now, in his rage, ugly, hideous in the
extreme as he gazed upon the calm face slightly flushed with virtuous
indignation, the spare form and silver locks of the aged man who dared
to stand between him and the victims of his wrath.

Gradually the face of the nobleman became calmer, one by one the lines
of passion disappeared and an expression of cold sarcasm took possession
of his features; he threw himself into his chair and turned to the
agent.

'Mr. Lambert, be pleased to pay particular attention to my orders, that
is if your nerves are not too much discomposed by the exciting piece of
eloquence Mr. Waters has just favored us with for my especial benefit.
Gad! Waters, you'd do the heavy fathers finely on the stage. I'll write
to Davidge for you, that last speech of yours was capital; couldn't you
favor us with a finishing touch, we are all attention.' The agent placed
his papers on the table, and wheeling his chair round, sat in imitation
of his master as if in expectation of hearing some rich joke.

The single word 'God!' escaped the steward as he turned to leave the
room; he gave one glance around as if for the last time looking on those
familiar objects, cast a sorrowful glance at his master, and was about
to quit, when his eye was arrested by a picture; it was that of frank
and noble boy in the pride of youth and beauty, his face ruddy with
exercise, his eye bright with intellect. It was a portrait of the Earl
when a boy.

He turned towards them once more.

'My lord,' said he, 'I pass by your harsh speeches of me and mine. It
may be I spoke too rudely myself. I will dwell no longer on the past, it
is irrevocable; of my broken-hearted grandchild; of her young love,
which was twined too strong around her heart, for one to perish without
the other; of my own head grey in your service I will never more
speak--but oh! for the love that bright boy once bore me, here on my
knees, I entreat you, spare this man, who once was your playmate, spare
him