er again somewhere;
and when I do, may I not write to you, and will you not come to her
help? Do speak; do say 'Yes,' Mr. Darrell."

The rich man's breast heaved slightly; he closed his eyes, but for a
moment. There was a short and sharp struggle with his better self, and
the better self conquered.

"Let go my reins; see, my horse puts down his ears; he may do you a
mischief. Now canter on: you shall be satisfied. Give me a moment to--to
unbutton my coat: it is too tight for me."

CHAPTER XII.

Guy Darrell gives way to an impulse, and quickly decides what he
will do with it.

"Lionel Haughton," said Guy Darrell, regaining his young cousin's side,
and speaking in a firm and measured voice, "I have to thank you for one
very happy minute; the sight of a heart so fresh in the limpid purity of
goodness is a luxury you cannot comprehend till you have come to my age;
journeyed, like me, from Dan to Beersheba, and found all barren. Heed
me: if you had been half-a-dozen years older, and this child for whom
you plead had been a fair young woman, perhaps just as innocent, just as
charming,--more in peril,--my benevolence would have lain as dormant
as a stone. A young man's foolish sentiment for a pretty girl,--as your
true friend, I should have shrugged my shoulders and said, 'Beware!' Had
I been your father, I should have taken alarm and frowned. I should have
seen the sickly romance which ends in dupes and deceivers. But at your
age, you, hearty, genial, and open-hearted boy,--you, caught but by the
chivalrous compassion for helpless female childhood,--oh, that you were
my son,--oh, that my dear father's blood were in those knightly veins!
I had a son once! God took him;" the strong man's lips quivered: he
hurried on. "I felt there was manhood in you, when you wrote to fling my
churlish favours in my teeth; when you would have left my roof-tree in a
burst of passion which might be foolish, but was nobler than the wisdom
of calculating submission, manhood, but only perhaps man's pride as
man,--man's heart not less cold than winter. To-day you have shown
me something far better than pride; that nature which constitutes the
heroic temperament is completed by two attributes,--unflinching purpose,
disinterested humanity. I know not yet if you have the first; you reveal
to me the second. Yes! I accept the duties you propose to me; I will do
more than leave to you the chance of discovering this poor child. I will
dire