"My lord," said Kimberley, "when I first came and spoke to you about this I brought some papers, and asked you to take them from me as a friend, if I may use the word between a nobleman and a man like myself."

"There has never been any doubt about your claim to use the word," returned Windgall, "since we have known each other."

He was a kindly man enough by nature, and had no wish to be cruel to his daughter, but it was hard to think that the wreck of all his hopes was near and unescapable. He could not think so altogether as yet.

"Thank you, my lord," said Kimberley. To say "my lord" often fell in with his ideas of state, and some degree of stateliness seemed essential. "But I remember that you told me afterwards that though you might take them from a relative you could not take them from a friend. I've thought since then that, perhaps, in spite of all I said, you thought I had bought

those papers to have you in my grasp. I am not a gentleman, my lord, but I hope I am above that. I was very poorly reared, my lord, but I never did a cruel thing in my life. I couldn't. I was attached to Lady Ella long before I had any money, and I shall never care for anybody else. But I was a fool to think that I could ever make her happy, and I resign my claim upon her hand, my lord, and I must leave your roof for ever."

If there was something of a touch of melodrama in Kimberley's last words he did not know of it, and Windgall was too agitated to think of anything but the matter of his speech.

"Stop, sir," cried the Earl in a rage of embarrassment and despair, but tolerably cool outside in spite of all. "I have a right to a fuller explanation of this astonishing resolve on your part, and I must have it."

"The only explanation I can give, my lord,”

said Kimberley, "is that this engagement is breaking Lady Ella's heart."

An absurdly overdressed, meek little man, with his hair in ridiculous disorder and his face besmeared with tears, might well be supposed to cut a poor figure in the eyes of a man of Windgall's breeding and ways of thinking, but notwithstanding his disadvantages there was something almost dignified in Kimberley's aspect at this moment. His self-sacrifice and his inward sense of right lent him an air of simple manliness.

"This conversation is necessarily painful to both of us," said the Earl, who felt and saw the change. "But may I ask the foundation of your belief?"

"My lord," said Kimberley, "I'm afraid I can't tell you everything, but I have watched for days past, and I was sure before"

"Before what?" Windgall's heart grew hot at the thought that Kimberley might have

known of Clare's visit, might even have seen that parting at which Ella had shed tears.

"I beg pardon," answered Kimberley.

"But

I can't answer you. But what I say is true. I am not fit for her, my lord, and all the money in the world could never make me worthy of her. If I had always been a lawyer's clerk it would have been better for everybody. I beg your pardon, my lord. I had no right to insult you by reminding you of that."

"Do

you know, Kimberley," said his lordship, "that the breaking of an engagement like this, an engagement of which all the world is cognisant, is an insult to my daughter and to me; an insult on which the world may place any miserable interpretation which pleases it.”

"My lord," returned Kimberley, "I am very sorry, but I can't break Lady Ella's heart."

"What did Alice say to you when you broached this fancy to her?" Windgall asked. "Did she confirm it?"

"No. She said it was a matter of great delicacy. She said she couldn't advise me. She said I was wrong to speak to anybody so young and inexperienced about it—perhaps I was."

"Surely you were wrong," said his lordship. "Kimberley, I cannot help believing that your supposition is altogether groundless and absurd.

I know Ella too well to suppose that she would accept so serious an offer without having well weighed her own intentions, without having consulted her own heart. I declare to you, Kimberley, I swear to you, that no pressure was brought to bear upon her, that I was simply and purely your ambassador in the matter."

"My lord," answered Kimberley, "I don't charge you with wanting to sell your daughter's happiness. I hope you never saw how wretched the match made her. I hope”

"How-how dare you, sir?" stammered Windgall, in an anguish of wrath and shame.

"I can't say what I want to say," said Kim