at his shapely face and burly figure. The
face was now somewhat hollowed out, darkened, lined, and blotched; and
elongated with meek resignation. His clothes--claret-coloured cloth
coat and breeches, flowered waistcoat, silk stockings, lace ruffles,
and all--were shabby and stained. He bowed to the company, and then
stood, furtively watching for some manifestation from the rest before
he dared proceed to warmer greetings.

Fanny stepped softly forward and kissed him, in a shy, perfunctory
manner; and then good-natured Tom shook his hand, and Philip followed
suit; after which Mrs. Faringfield embraced him somewhat stiffly, and
I gingerly held his fingers a moment, and my mother hoped he found
himself well.

"Quite well, I thank you, considering," said he; and then gazed in a
half-scared way at his father. All the old defiance had disappeared
under the blows of adversity.

"Well, sir," said his father, coldly, "we had scarce looked for you
back among us."

"No, sir," said Ned, still standing. "I had no right to be looked for,
sir--no more than the prodigal son had. I'm a bit like him, sir."

"Don't count upon the fatted calf, however."

"No, sir; not me. Very plain fare will do for me. I--I ask your
pardon, sir, for that--that business about Mr. Palmer."

"The world has put you into a humble mood," said Mr. Faringfield, with
sarcastic indifference.

"Yes, sir; the way of transgressors is hard, sir."

"Why don't you sit down?" put in Mrs. Faringfield, who was made
uncomfortable by the sight of others being so.

"Thank you, mother," said Ned, availing himself of the implied
permission.

"I hear you've undergone a reformation," said his father.

"I hope so, sir. They tell me I've got religion."

"Who tells you?"

"The Methodists. I went to their meetings in London. I--I thought I
needed a little of that kind of thing. That's how I happened to--to
save my soul."

"And how do you conceive you will provide for your body?"

"I don't know yet--exactly. If I might stay here till I could find
some employment--"

Mr. Faringfield met the pleading look of Fanny, and the prudent one of
his wife. The latter reflected, as plainly as words, what had
manifestly entered his own mind: that immunity from future trouble on
Ned's account might indeed be had without recourse to a step entailing
public disgrace upon the family. So he said:

"My intention was, if you should ever show your face in New York
again, to see you