It happened that, during the week in which these occurrences took place, Mr. Temple was absent from London. On the night of his return he was more than usually elated. Everything was prospering with him. Arthur's ingenuous manner found favour wherever he appeared, and his introduction into society promised the most favourable results. In addition to this cause for satisfaction, Mr. Temple had reason to believe that his public services were likely, nay, almost certain, to be rewarded with a title, which his son would bear after him.

"There is practically no limit to our fortunes, my boy," he said to Arthur; "the current will carry us on."

To which Arthur replied:

"I trust I shall not disappoint you, sir."

"I am satisfied as to that," said Mr. Temple. "My chief desire now is that you should choose a definite career. I do not wish to press you, but the sooner you enter public life the wider will be your experience and the greater your chances. Our name shall be a famous one in the country."

On his return to his town house, Mr. Temple, after a few minutes' conversation with his wife, proceeded to the library. He had been expected home the previous evening, and his correspondence for two days lay upon his writing-table. He looked over the letters hurriedly, and paused at one which seemed to give him uneasiness. It was brief and to the point.

"The writer of these lines, Seth Dumbrick by name, wishes for a personal interview with Mr. Temple, on a matter of vital importance to himself and the gentleman he addresses. He will call on Mr. Temple at eight o'clock this evening, and hopes not to be denied."

Mr. Temple glanced at the clock. It was a quarter-past eight. He struck a bell, and a servant entered.

"Is any person waiting to see me?"

"Yes, sir; he is in the hall."

"Giving any name?"

"Dumbrick, sir."

"Did he come yesterday?"

"Yes, sir, and was informed you would not return till to-night."

"What sort of a person?"

"A common person, sir--a very common person."

"Show him in."

The next moment Seth Dumbrick entered, hat in hand, and stood near the door. From his seat at the table, Mr. Temple desired him to come near. Seth Dumbrick obeyed, and the men faced each other.

"You are the writer of this note," said Mr. Temple haughtily.

"I am, sir."

"Explain it, and briefly. Stay--have I not seen your face somewhere?"

Seth Dumbrick made no immediate reply. He had no desire to recall to Mr. Temple's memory the circumstances of the unpleasant interview that had taken place between them many years ago. He himself had recognised Mr. Temple the moment he entered the room, his cause for remembrance being the stronger of the two. Mr. Temple had an unerring memory for faces, but his meeting with Seth Dumbrick lay so far in the past, and his life was so varied and full of colour, that he could not for the moment connect the face with the circumstance.

"Answer me," he said peremptorily. "Have I not seen you before?"

"You have, sir."

"Where?"

"Years ago--at Springfield--when I, with two children, was taking a holiday in the country."

"Ah, I remember perfectly. Our meeting was not a pleasant one."

"It was not my fault that it was not so."

"I remember also that you gave me the address of an inn at which you were stopping, and that I informed you I should call there. I did call, and you had gone. You ran away, I presume."

"I followed my course, being a free man, and not bound to wait for strangers."

"It is a matter of no importance. Two children! Yes; I should know them again, I think. One, a child, with a very beautiful face. Is she living?"

"She is, sir; as a woman, though she is scarcely yet out of her girlhood, she is more beautiful than she was as a child. I am here on her behalf."

"On her behalf!" exclaimed Mr. Temple, taking the note from the table. "You use the words 'vital importance.'"

"They are correctly used, as you will perhaps admit when you hear me."

"I will hear you. Of vital importance to yourself and to me?"

"That is so, sir."

Mr. Temple considered for a moment. His career had been one which necessitated rapid conclusions.

"Write your name, trade, and address on this paper."

Seth Dumbrick did as he was desired. His manner was closely watched by Mr. Temple, who expected to detect a reluctance to give the information. But Seth Dumbrick wrote unhesitatingly, and with decision.

"This is your true name and address?"

"I have no other. I am here to speak the truth."

"Say what you have to say."

"I must trespass upon your patience, but I will be as brief as it is possible for me to be. It is very many years ago--I cannot recall how many; the age of the child, if it can be ascertained, will verify that--that a little girl was strangely and mysteriously brought into my neighbourhood by a man whom I never saw, and who remained in Rosemary Lane for probably not longer than a couple of hours. This stranger took a room in the house of acquaintances of mine----"

"Write on the paper, beneath your own name, the name of these acquaintances."

Seth Dumbrick wrote the name of Chester, which Mr. Temple did not glance at. He was more engaged in observing the manner in which the man before him submitted to the tests he demanded. Seth continued:

"The stranger took a room that was to let in the house, and paid, I believe, two weeks' rent in advance. The night that he took the room he disappeared from the neighbourhood, and was never more seen in it."

"Leaving the child?"

"Leaving the child. Not long after the occurrence the persons who occupied the house fell into misfortune, and the woman into whose care the child had been strangely thrown was compelled by circumstances to give up her house, and take a situation in the country."

"All this bears upon your errand to me?"

"Every word of it. The woman had a little girl of her own, a few years older than the foundling, who contracted an absorbing love for the deserted stranger. It is not necessary to relate how I, upon the breaking up of the woman's home, took upon myself the care of her child and the child whom the villain--that is the correct word, in my opinion--deserted. These children have lived with me ever since, and under my care have grown to womanhood."

The talent Seth Dumbrick exhibited for condensation and clearness had its effect upon Mr. Temple, who knew how to appreciate the rare faculty.

The child you have referred to for her beauty is the child who was deserted. Nothing is known of her parentage or belongings. She has grown up amongst us, and is loved by all. To me, a childless man, she is as my own daughter, and I could not feel more deeply for her were she of my own blood. But it was a matter of remark from the first, and has continued so, that, from all appearance, she is superior in certain ways to those whom a strange fate has condemned her to herd with. You see, sir, that I do not rate myself and those of my order too highly. I have given her what education it was in my power to bestow. She is in all respects a lady, and as beautiful a girl as this city contains. As is natural, so bright a being has attracted the attention of those in my station of life--I do not say in hers--who desire matrimony............