ited with a later and more intolerable wrong, exclusion from that
House of Commons which was the only surviving seat of sovereignty. Thus
excommunicated on all sides, Prynne still preserved his free and buoyant
nature. He had the voice and impulsive manner of a young man; while
there was a consistent moderation in his opinions which--however it
might weigh against his success as a party-man--yet sprang from
conviction, and was a guard against misanthropy.

In his apparel he was plain but not slovenly. His eyes were eager; his
lean face, branded with the first letters of the words "Seditious
Libeller," was shaded by straight falls of lank hair, streaked here and
there with grey, that was combed down on either side of his head to hide
the loss of his ears.

Hearing a step without, Prynne laid down the book he had been reading--a
pamphlet by John Milton--and advanced, with an air of polite reserve, to
meet the entering visitor. This was a man more than ten years his
junior, short of stature, with clear-cut features and thoughtful blue
eyes contrasting with hair and moustache dark almost to blackness. His
neatly brushed garments had a threadbare gloss, and his broad linen
falling collar, though white and clean, was somewhat frayed. But his
bearing was high-bred and distinguished, with an air of sober yet
resolute earnestness. He wore no sword, and the hat which he carried in
his hand was plain of shape and without adornment.

"M. de Maufant," said Prynne, with the shy courtesy of a student, "will
admire that I should seek speech of him after sundry passages that have
been between us."

"Alack! Mr. Prynne," answered the stranger, with a slight foreign
accent, "since your captivity in Mont Orgueil many things have befallen.
'Tis not alone I, Michael Lempriere the exile, changed from the state
of Seigneur de Maufant and Chief Magistrate of Jersey to that of an
outcast deriving a precarious subsistence from teaching French in your
Babylon here; but methinks you yourself have had a fall too, since the
days you speak of: when you left Jersey for London you came here in a
sort of triumph. But by this time, methinks, you must be cured of your
high hopes: I say it not for offence, but rather out of sorrow."

"Why no," answered the ex-Member. "Though I be no longer one of yonder
assembly, I am still a denizen of London; and, let me tell you, a
citizen of no mean city. And I bear my share in advancing the great
cause on which so