the old man's pleasure, and cheer, and comfort, and joy in having
one day at home at last, were dashed and shattered and turned into
wretched anxiety by this vile scrawl. He meant to have gone down, light
of heart, with a smiling daughter upon either arm, to the gallant little
festival where everybody knew him, and every one admired and loved him.
His two pretty daughters would sit upstairs, watching from a bow-window
(though themselves unseen) all the dashing arrivals and the grand
apparel. Then when the Marquis made his speech, and the King and Queen
and Royal Family rode upon the clouds, and the grandeur of Great Britain
was above the stars of heaven, the ladies in the gallery would venture
just to show themselves, not for one moment with a dream of being looked
at, but from romantic loyalty, and the fervour of great sentiments.
People pretending not to know would ask, "Who are those very lovely
ladies?" And he would make believe to know nothing at all about it, but
his heart would know whether he knew it or not.

On the very eve of all this well-earned bliss, when it would have
refreshed his fagged body and soul--which were now not so young as they
used to be--to hear from some scoundrel without a name, that his pet
child, the life of his life, was no better than she ought to be, which
being said of a woman means that she is as bad as she can be! This fine
old gentleman had never received such a cowardly back-handed blow till
now, and for a moment he bent under it.

Then, greatly ashamed of himself, he arose, and with one strong word,
which even Mr. Twemlow might have used under such provocation, he trod
the vile stuff under foot, and pitched it with the fire-tongs into the
fire. After this he felt better, and resolving most stoutly that he
never would let it cross his mind again, made a light and cheerful
answer to the profligate one--his young girl who came seeking him.

"Oh, father, and you ought to be dressed!" she cried. "Shall we keep His
Majesty the Lord-Lieutenant waiting? Don't let us go at all. Let us stop
at home, papa. We never see you now, more than once in a month; and we
don't want to see you from a staircase hole, where we mustn't even blow
a kiss to you. I have got such a lot of things to tell you, dear father;
and I could make you laugh much more than they will."

"But, my darling--all these grand things?" said the father, gently
fingering but half afraid to look at her, because of what had been