at I wished to be
paid for my services."

"It was well for you that you did. But for that I could not certainly
have asked you to come and see me here."

"You could not?"

"No;--I could not. You will probably understand what I mean." Here
Mr. Cumming laid his hands upon the letters, but made no other
allusion to them. "A very few words more will, I think, settle all
that there is to be arranged between us. The Marquis, from certain
reasons of humanity,--with which I for one hardly sympathize in
this case,--is most unwilling to stop, or even to lessen, the ample
pension which is paid to you."

"Ample;--after a whole lifetime!"

"But he will do so if you write any further letters to any member of
his family."

"That is tyranny, Mr. Cumming."

"Very well. Then is the Marquis a tyrant. But he will go further than
that in his tyranny. If it be necessary to defend either himself or
any of his family from further annoyance, he will do so by criminal
proceedings. You are probably aware that the doing this would be very
disagreeable to the Marquis. Undoubtedly it would. To such a man as
Lord Kingsbury it is a great trouble to have his own name, or worse,
that of others of his family, brought into a Police Court. But, if
necessary, it will be done. I do not ask you for any assurance, Mr.
Greenwood, because it may be well that you should take a little time
to think of it. But unless you are willing to lose your income, and
to be taken before a police magistrate for endeavouring to extort
money by threatening letters, you had better hold your hand."

"I have never threatened."

"Good morning, Mr. Greenwood."

"Mr. Cumming, I have threatened no one."

"Good morning, Mr. Greenwood." Then the discarded chaplain took his
leave, failing to find the words with which he could satisfactorily
express his sense of the injury which had been done him.

Before that day was over he had made up his mind to take his L300 a
year and be silent. The Marquis, he now found, was not so infirm as
he had thought, nor the Marchioness quite so full of fears. He must
give it up, and take his pittance. But in doing so he continued to
assure himself that he was greatly injured, and did not cease to
accuse Lord Kingsbury of sordid parsimony in refusing to reward
adequately one whose services to the family had been so faithful and
long-enduring.

It may, however, be understood that in the midst of troubles such as
these Lady Kingsbury did not