nce
and submission had been yielded, but, having little cause to believe
himself beloved, his heart had never been called into action so as to
soften the clashings of two essentially dissimilar characters. Instead
of rebelling, or even of murmuring, he had hid disappointment in
indifference, taken refuge in levity and versatility, and even consoled
himself by sporting with what he regarded as prejudice or unjust
displeasure. All this cost him much regret and self-reproach at each
proof of the affection so long veiled by reserve. Never would he have
given pain, had he guessed that his father could feel; but he had grown
up to imagine the whole man made up of politics and conventionalities,
and his new discoveries gave him at least as much contrition as
pleasure.

After long study of the debates, that morning, his father prepared to
write. Louis asked for the paper, saying his senses would just serve
for the advertisements, but presently he made an exclamation of
surprise at beholding, in full progress, the measure which had brought
Sir Miles Oakstead to Ormersfield, one of peculiar interest to the
Earl. His blank look of wonder amused Mrs. Ponsonby, but seemed
somewhat to hurt his father.

'You did not suppose I could attend to such matters now?' he said.

'But I am so much better!'

Fearing that the habit of reserve would check any exchange of feeling,
Mrs. Ponsonby said, 'Did you fancy your father could not think of you
except upon compulsion?'

'I beg your pardon, father,' said Louis, smiling, while a tear rose to
his eyes, 'I little thought I was obstructing the business of the
nation. What will Sir Miles do to me?'

'Sir Miles has written a most kind and gratifying letter,' said Lord
Ormersfield, 'expressing great anxiety for you, and a high opinion of
your powers.'

Louis had never heard of his own powers, except for mischief, and the
colour returned to his cheeks, as he listened to the kind and cordial
letter, written in the first shock of the tidings of the accident. He
enjoyed the pleasure it gave his father far more than the commendation
to himself; for he well knew, as he said, that 'there is something
embellishing in a catastrophe,' and he supposed 'that had driven out
the rose-coloured pastor.'

'There is always indulgence at your age,' said the Earl. 'You have
created an impression which may be of great importance to you
by-and-by.'

Louis recurred to politics. The measure was one which