ke my call
at Michaelmas!'

And they walked out together, Mr. Shelford taking his arm
affectionately through the streets. Mark, as has been said already,
had a certain knack of attracting interest and liking without doing
anything either to excite or deserve them in the slightest, and the
old gentleman felt now almost as if he had gained a son.

He was anxious to prevent Mark from returning to the old life, because
he had observed his unfitness for it; he himself, however, in spite of
his diatribes against boys and scholastic life, was far fonder of both
than he would have confessed, and would miss them as a few who knew
him best would miss him when the time came for parting.

From that day he became a frequent visitor at Campden Hill, where he
found with Mabel the appreciation and tender regard which he had
never expected to meet again on this side of the grave.

Mark carried out his resolve, of which his father-in-law approved,
allowing him to use his chambers during the Long Vacation. The pupils
came there, and the coach's manner captivated them from the first, and
made the work easy for both; they came out high on the list, and were
succeeded by others, whose fees paid the rent of the chambers he took
in the Temple shortly after. Call-night came, and as he stood with the
others at the Benchers' table and listened to the Treasurer's address,
he felt an exultant confidence in himself once more; he had been
promised a brief from Mr. Ferret, who took this form of disapproving
of Uncle Solomon's testamentary caprices, and this time Mark did not
shrink from it--he had read hard lately, and with better results. He
knew that he should be at no loss for words or self-possession; he had
been a brilliant and effective speaker, as the Union debates had
frequently proved, and he looked forward now to entering the legal
arena as the field for retrieving his lost name. Mabel should be proud
of him yet!

He was deceiving no one now, Vincent was not injured by the fraud--for
he had his book back; it was true that Mabel did not suspect the real
history of the transaction, but it would do her no good to know that
he had once made a false step. Caffyn was over in America, and
harmless wherever he might see fit to go--his sting was drawn for
ever.

No wonder, then, that he seemed to look round upon a cloudless
horizon--but that had been the case with him so many times since he
had first complicated his life by that unhappy act o