Herbert bowed assent.

His companion looked down thoughtfully for a moment, and then remarked, "I fear your mother will be disappointed."

"She is too kind and generous to blame me," said the young man, eagerly.

"But Mr. Seymour?- he is no doubt kind and generous too; yet, still- And there she paused, as if unwilling to speak further. "My father knows that I am in the habit of absenting myself from such scenes; he will not therefore expect to see me."

"Well, I suppose I must submit," rejoined the lady, not without a little reluctance.

"Accept my warmest thanks," said Herbert, gently; adding musingly, as if speaking to himself, "this will enable me to keep my engagement."

"So you have another engagement!" exclaimed Lady Crossley, in a tone not altogether free from pique.

"Yes," answered the other, quickly, "but it is of a very different nature." Then, seeing that she was still looking far from satisfied, he resolved on explaining to her his real intentions.

On the whole, it would have been well-nigh impossible for him to have adopted a wiser course; the Lady Crossley was a woman of keen penetration and strong prejudices, and any attempt at deception on Herbert's part would have ruined him entirely in her estimation; whereas she was quite captivated by the frankness and consideration with which he treated her, and half inclined to conclude that he must be right in everything he did and said, so favourably was she impressed by his aspect, manner, and straightforward sincerity; his manly, yet gentle dignity, the thoughtful, but not sad-grave, but not stern-expression of his countenance; the clear, dark eye, which looked so thoughtfully into her own; the sweet winning smile, which played occasionally on his handsome lip; his studious avoidance of all those trifling, conventional, complimentary, or superficially polite phrases, which so often-to her secret disgust-she was obliged to listen to; and, lastly, though not the least in importance, she was touched and gratified exceedingly by the confidence he reposed in her individually, and the quickness and keensightedness of his judgment, in discerning and adapting himself to the peculiarities of her character. To much that he said during the conversation that followed, her heart almost unconsciously responded; and more than once, in the course of the day, she caught herself meditating upon his words with unwonted seriousness and earnest interest.

After a while they left the ball-room together; but Lady Crossley having occasion to return to it, in order to point out some alteration which she wished made to a servant whom they met, Herbert was left to pursue his own way alone. He had only proceeded a few steps when a door just in front of him was noiselessly opened, and Mr. Seymour's tall figure appeared on the threshold.

The young man would have passed on, but by an imperative gesture his father motioned to him to stop. He obeyed, greatly wondering that the latter should thus condescend to address him spontaneously. Wonder, however, was exchanged for a far deeper feeling, when, after pausing for an instant, Mr. Seymour came close up to him, and said, with a certain slowness, distinctness, and significance of speech which proclaimed his decision to be irrevocable,—

"I have a particular reason for desiring you to be present at this ball to-night; moreover I lay my positive commands on you, not only to show yourself when there, but also to dance.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Herbert, thrown off his guard.

"You should know by this time," proceeded the other in the aforesaid tone, and with a stern compression of his upper lip, "that I am not to be trifled with. Having explained my wishes, I expect them to be carried out. I tell you, therefore, once for all, that in this thing I will be obeyed."

Without another word he moved haughtily away, and re-entered the room he had so recently quitted; while Herbert, upon whose heart a heavy load had suddenly fallen, rapidly sought his own apartment, where he remained for a considerable time a prey to the most painful and conflicting emotions. He could not all at once bring himself to view the matter calmly and dispassionately, or subdue the natural feeling of indignation which Mr. Seymour's irritating words and still more irritating tones had kindled within him. But by-andby a gentler mood succeeded, and he was enabled to reflect upon what had passed without a vestige of anger or bitterness.

His sense of duty was too strong and conclusive for him to hesitate for a moment as to what course he should adopt. Still, it was with extreme regret that he prepared to disobey his father's commands.

"However, I cannot do otherwise," he murmured half aloud; "for, though I am well aware that worldliness consists rather in a heart which draws its support and satisfaction from earthly things than in those things themselves; yet it is no less my duty to abstain from all appearance of evil, and show forth the praises of Him who has called me out of darkness into His marvellous light, by acting up to the earnest injunction, Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.'

6

The short day was fast drawing to a close when Mr. Seymour, who happened to be seated at a large bay window in one of the principal apartments overlooking the broad avenue, saw his son leave the house; and, after looking hastily around him as if he had expected to meet some one, he glanced at his watch, and then started off at a rapid pace in the direction of the stables. Before he had gone far, he was met by a groom bringing up his horse; and, without losing a moment, the young man vaulted into the saddle, and was presently out of sight.

"Where can he be going? was Mr. Seymour's mental exclamation. "Is it possible that he will be mad enough to defy me?" "Did you speak, Seymour?" inquired a gentleman standing near him; for he had unconsciously repeated the last words aloud.

"I was merely speculating on the weather," he answered, smoothing his ruffled brow, and speaking with the utmost carelessness. "Ah! it does look somewhat unsettled. Shall we have rain or snow?"

"Probably the latter," returned Mr. Seymour, preparing to leave the window.

With slow and measured steps he crossed the room, until he reached the sofa which was occupied by his wife, who seemed to be greatly amused by listening to the playful sallies of a group of young people near, and leaning towards her, asked in a low tone, fixing his eyes at the same time searchingly upon her face,

"Can you tell me what has become of Herbert?"

"No," she replied, glancing uneasily around the room. And she said truly; for the young man had purposely refrained from speaking to her on the subject. "But what makes you ask?" she demanded-in indistinct dread of hearing something unpleasant. "Surely

"Pray do not alarm yourself," rejoined her husband, in a dry, caustic voice, while a sarcastic smile wreathed his lips; "I have just seen him ride away from the house, and I merely wished to discover whether, before going, he had condescended to explain his intentions to you."

"His intentions?" questioned the lady, looking surprised.

"I mean, of course, regarding the ball-will he return in time for it?"

Mrs. Seymour shook her head. "You know, my dear," she said deprecatingly, "he does not consider it right for him to join us at these times."

66

'Yes, and I also know," began Mr. Seymour, in a hissing whisper; but before he could complete his sentence, Lady Crossley approached them, saying gaily,

66

My dear Mrs. Seymour, I promised your maid to remind you that it is getting late; she is beginning to fear you will not be dressed in time."

Then, turning to the gentleman, she observed with a frank smile, "You must not be angry with me for giving your excellent son permission to leave us for a few hours. I should scarcely have agreed to dispense with his society had I not suspected that, however much we may regret his absence, there are others who will gain infinitely more than we lose by it."

Mr. Seymour's face darkened as he listened to her words; but in no other way did he allow himself to betray the least symptom of annoyance or dissatisfaction and when she had finished he resumed his accustomed manner, and uttered a few words in reply, after which his wife and Lady Crossley passed out of the room together.

CHAPTER XIX.

PRAYING AND WORKING.

"'Tis infamy to die and not be missed."

So habitual and perfect was the command Mr. Seymour exercised over himself, that no one who had observed him at Lady Crossley's ball on the occasion referred to in my last chapter, could have surmised the true state of his feelings.

Even Mrs. Seymour was deceived into believing him, if not wholly satisfied, at least indifferent, as to Herbert's movements-ergo her own spirits, which had been somewhat depressed by the harshness of his manner, when speaking to her on the subject, became unusually elevated; and she afterwards assured her hostess that she had enjoyed herself most thoroughly.

Her anxiety was, however, reawakened when, at a late hour, the party met at breakfast; and she glanced furtively from Herbert to Mr. Seymour, and vice versa, several times during the lengthened meal, hoping to gain thus indirectly some insight into their mutual condition.

But, notwithstanding her earnest scrutiny, she was unable to arrive at any definite conclusion; for though she fancied that Herbert looked pale, thoughtful, and slightly embarrassed, his father's features could scarcely have been more immovably calm had they been composed of chiselled marble.

Neither did she elicit much information from Herbert, although she closely interrogated him the first time she had an opportunity, regarding this short interview with Mr. Seymour. The young man, being as yet uncertain what results might spring from the step he had considered it his duty to take, preferred saying as little as possible about it, lest he should excite her fears; and he accordingly contrived adroitly to evade her questions, without adding to her solicitude, or increasing her apprehensive perplexities.

As days and weeks wore away before Mr. Seymour made any further allusion to the circumstance, it almost appeared as if he had forgotten, or more properly speaking (for he never forgot an injury) forgiven, his son's disobedience.

Herbert, however, did not for a moment indulge so vain a hope; he felt that he had deeply-perhaps irremediably-offended his father, and that this continued silence was portentous of evil rather than good.

Meanwhile, Christmas, with its delightful associations, its softening, enlarging, and elevating influences, its pleasant reunions and happy social gatherings, came and went, and Mrs. Seymour, in daily expection of hearing her husband express a wish to proceed to their house in Belgrave Square, began to make preparations for leaving Mertonsville.

One clear frosty Sabbath evening, about this time, Mr. Seymour and several gentlemen who had been dining with him passed through the village on their way to a friend's house, where they had agreed

to spend the few remaining hours of the sacred day. An empty carriage slowly followed them, for the coldness of the weather made them prefer walking to driving; and as they went on they remarked with some surprise the perfect quiet which surrounded them on all sides.

Really, Seymour," exclaimed Mr. Hilton, laughing good-humouredly, "you deserve great credit for keeping your tenants in such excellent order. Not one straggler can I see," he added, pausing and gazing curiously around him; "and better still, not one harsh, discordant sound is to be heard."

"Very true," responded Colonel Fowler, an irascible old gentleman, between whom and Mr. Seymour there had for years existed an unacknowledged feeling of hostility, principally arising from their being invariably opposed to each other in politics. "It is inimitable. But I rather suspect our friend here would not have accomplished so much had he not possessed a valuable auxiliary in the person of his son."

"What do you mean, sir?" inquired Mr. Seymour, quite calmly, though with a certain lowering of the brow and flashing of the eye. I have yet to learn that my tenants differ in any respect from your own."

"Indeed, Seymour, there is a very considerable difference," interposed Sir George Hastings, with thoughtful seriousness. "I have often been amazed at the civil, orderly, respectful, and I may add refined manners of the generality of your workpeople, when contrasted with the rough, unpolished beings I have the misfortune to employ."

This was by no means so distasteful to Mr. Seymour, and had he not still been smarting under Colonel Fowler's words, he would probably have taken it as a personal compliment; but the idea of hearing Herbert's name thus mentioned in connection with his dependants was wormwood to his proud spirit.

66

With such an example before us," continued Sir George, "we are, I think, doubly culpable in not adopting measures to improve the moral condition of our own numerous employés."

Why, what would you have us do for them?" demanded Mr. Hilton, in rather a disdainful tone.

"Could we not try the same plan which has been so successfully followed here?" suggested Sir George.

"Imprimis," returned the other, with a countenance of polite incredulity," perhaps you will afford us a little information regarding the plan itself. I, for one, am profoundly ignorant of everything concerning it."

66

Behold, then, its principal features!" exclaimed Colonel Fowler, in a voice of mock solemnity; and as he spoke, he stopped in his walk, and pointed with an air of mystery to the large unpretendinglooking edifice we have several times before had occasion to mention, to which they had just approached without being aware that it was at that very moment occupied by the greater proportion of the inhabitants of Mertonsville.

"You speak in riddles," commented Mr. Hilton; but he suddenly paused, and exchanged a swift glance with Sir George Hastings, as a voice, which he instantly knew to be that of Herbert Seymour, vibrated upon his ear.