s creatures?"

"I think that if a man wants a thing he must work for it."

The Quaker looked him hard in the face. "In the ordinary needs of
life, my young lord, the maxim is a good one."

"It is good for everything. You tell me of the Almighty. Will the
Almighty give me the girl I love if I sit still and hold my peace?
Must I not work for that as for anything else?"

"What can I do, Lord Hampstead?"

"Agree with me that it will be better for her to run her chance. Say
as I do that it cannot be right that she should condemn herself. If
you,--you her father,--will bid her, then she will do it."

"I do not know."

"You can try with her;--if you think it right. You are her father."

"Yes,--I am her father."

"And she is obedient to you. You do not think that she should--? Eh?"

"How am I to say? What am I to say else than that it is in God's
hands? I am an old man who have suffered much. All have been taken
from me;--all but she. How can I think of thy trouble when my own is
so heavy?"

"It is of her that we should think."

"I cannot comfort her; I cannot control her. I will not even attempt
to persuade her. She is all that I have. If I did think for a moment
that I should like to see my child become the wife of one so high as
thou art, that folly has been crushed out of me. To have my child
alive would be enough for me now, let alone titles, and high places,
and noble palaces."

"Who has thought of them?"

"I did. Not she,--my angel; my white one!" Hampstead shook his head
and clenched his fist, shaking it, in utter disregard of the passers
by, as the hot, fast tears streamed down his face. Could it be
necessary that her name should be mentioned even in connection with
feelings such as those which the Quaker owned.

"Thou and I, my lord," continued Zachary Fay, "are in sore trouble
about this maiden. I believe that thy love is, as mine, true, honest,
and thorough. For her sake I wish I could give her to thee,--because
of thy truth and honesty; not because of thy wealth and titles. But
she is not mine to give. She is her own,--and will bestow her hand or
refuse to do so as her own sense of what is best for thee may direct
her. I will say no word to persuade her one way or the other." So
speaking the Quaker strode quickly up the gateway, and Lord Hampstead
was left to make his way back out of the City as best he might.

CHAPTER IX.

IN PARK LANE.

On Monday, the 20th of April, Lady Frances re