The week that followed was one of great anxiety to Nansie, springing less from the pecuniary circumstances of their position than from the state of Kingsley's health. The privations and the sufferings he had endured told upon him now that the excitement of the reunion with his wife was over, and for some days he was too weak to leave the house. He himself made light of his sickness, and would not admit that there was anything seriously the matter with him. They made no endeavor to impress this upon him, but he gathered it from the evidences of care and attention by which he was surrounded.

There was in the neighborhood a doctor of great skill, who could have practised successfully in fashionable quarters at high fees, but who had deliberately chosen to remain among the poor, whom he loved and attended to with as much devotion as he would have displayed to the highest in the land. His fee was fixed at a shilling; when this was not forthcoming he was content with sixpence, and in many cases with nothing, making no complaints against tardy debtors. This man was always cheerful, ready, and willing, at whatever hour of the day or night; and, without ostentation, he played the part of a true minister to those who needed it most. It is pleasant to be able to limn, even thus briefly, the character of one in whose life and career were exhibited the noblest attributes of human nature. He and Mr. Loveday were friends, and shortly after Nansie came to live with her uncle Dr. Perriera was greatly attracted to her, no less by her gentle manners than by the display of attainments superior to those among whom she lived. When Mr. Loveday was burned out Dr. Perriera was the first to express sympathy with him; he would also have been the first to offer practical assistance had it not been that he was very poor, a fact which troubled him not at all so far as regarded himself, but frequently disturbed him when he came into contact with distress which it was not in his power to relieve. After the fire, when he attended Nansie of his own free will and prompting, he declined to receive any fee whatever, and to this Mr. Loveday did not demur.

As his name indicated, Dr. Perriera was of Spanish descent, and could, indeed, trace his genealogical record back to the days when Spain was first among the nations of the world in art, literature, and science. But the dark and heavy hand of bigotry effectually scotched the fair promise which lay before the favored nation, and with the exodus of the Jews--to which race Dr. Perriera belonged--commenced the decay of a mighty nation.

On the day succeeding that of Kingsley's return Mr. Loveday called upon Dr. Perriera, and told him of it.

"I am greatly pleased," said Dr. Perriera; "it will be better medicine for Mrs. Manners than the finest drugs in the Pharmacopoeia."

Then, in order that Dr. Perriera might be in possession of all necessary information, Mr. Loveday made him acquainted with the particulars of Kingsley's association with Mr. Seymour, following those up with the intelligence of the strange hallucination under which Kingsley was laboring with respect to his long absence from home. To Mr. Loveday's surprise, Dr. Perriera showed an intimate knowledge of the movements of the so-called Mr. Seymour, as well as of the secret societies in the interests of which it was said that he travelled.

"Of Mr. Manners," said Dr. Perriera, "I know nothing. In Mr. Seymour's transactions he was little better than a cipher, and was probably used as an innocent decoy, or as a means to avert suspicion from the doings of his chief."

"How have you become acquainted with these affairs," asked Mr. Loveday; "you, who seem to have no spare moments of time apart from your professional offices?"

"I have time and to spare for much," replied Dr. Perriera, smiling. "I keep up rather an extensive correspondence with many European societies which have for their object the advancement of science and humanity."

"Humanity!" exclaimed Mr. Loveday.

"I call it by that name," said Dr. Perriera. "Were it possible that the ends aimed at could be reached, the toilers of the world would be undoubtedly benefited. The advocated means are frequently pernicious and indefensible; but this occasionally arises from the fact that men of keen intellectual power are goaded to madness by the tyranny of old systems. However, enough of this; I think much but speak little of such matters. I have my small part to play in the world as to the larger and grander movements of which I can simply look on and observe."

Dr. Perriera called to see Kingsley, and of his own accord visited him daily. He gave Nansie kindly hope and sympathy, but did not enter into the peculiarities of her husband's case. With Mr. Loveday he was more open.

"It is a singular condition," he said. "The loss of memory is not at all uncommon, nor, either, is its recovery; but in most instances this loss is a total loss, time, well-known incidents, relative circumstances, the names of friends and acquaintances, even one's own name, being plunged for a period into absolute obscurity. But here the loss of memory is partial, and the singular phase of it is that it affects only those circumstances of the past which it would be disagreeable to recall. He remembers all that is pleasant and happy in his life, but forgets all that has brought trouble upon him. It belongs to this phase that he is incapable of realizing the privations of the life which seems to lie before him. His temperament is exceptionally bright and cheerful; he looks upon the happy side of nature, and every hopeful sentiment which passes his lips seems to blossom into flower at the moment of its utterance. I can imagine no happier condition of being; but in a poor man it has its grave and most serious side."

"How?" inquired Mr. Loveday.

"In the fact," replied Dr. Perriera, "that it allows no room for effort, that it affords no incentive to it, that it creates a sure contentment even for a crust of bread, and an utter obliviousness to what may be necessary for those who, he being the head of the family, are naturally dependent upon him."

"That is to say," observed Mr. Loveday, "that there is no hope of his being the bread-winner."

"None," said Dr. Perriera, "until there is a radical change in him; and I confess to being at a loss as to how this can be effected."

The correctness of the good doctor's diagnosis was verified by an incident which did not come to the ears of Nansie or her uncle until after its occurrence. Stronger in body, and able to walk abroad without assistance, Kingsley soon made himself acquainted with all the intricacies of the neighborhood; and on a certain morning he wended his steps to the West-end of the city, and stood before his father's house. Without hesitation he knocked and rang, and upon the door being opened pushed his way past the astonished servant, and walked straight to his father's study. There sat Mr. Manners, who gazed at his son with sternness and some inward agitation which he was successful in concealing.

"Good-morning, father," said Kingsley, drawing a chair to the table, and seating himself; then glancing at the papers scattered about, added, in a tone of inquiry, "Fresh contracts?"

Mr. Manners did not reply to the question.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

Kingsley had grown thinner since he last saw him, and that circumstance and the shabbiness of Kingsley's appearance suddenly inspired in the heart of Mr. Manners the hope that his son had come to him in submission.

"I was anxious about you, father," said Kingsley, in an affectionate tone, "it seems so long since we saw each other. A son must not be forgetful of his duties."

"Ah," said Mr. Manners, his hope growing, "you recognize that at last?"

"At last!" said Kingsley, in a tone of cheerful surprise. "I have always recognized it. I cannot recall that I have ever been wanting in my duty to you."

Mr. Manners stared at his son, debating now within himself what kind of part Kingsley had come to play. There was a silence of a few moments, during which Kingsley gazed at the familiar objects of the room with great calmness, and quite at his ease.

"The object of your visit?" demanded Mr. Manners.

"I have told you, father. Are you well?"

"Yes, I am well."

"And happy?"

"Yes," replied Mr. Manners, setting his teeth, "and happy. That knowledge will hurt you, perhaps."

"Why, no, father, it delights me. Everything, as usual, prospers with you, of course."

"Everything, as usual, prospers with me," said Mr. Manners, mechanically. "Did you inquire of the servant if I was at home?"

"No, why should I? It was my home once as well as yours."

"But is no longer," said Mr. Manners, with a deepening frown.

"Oh, well, no, in a certain sense," said Kingsley, "not directly, but indirectly still my home as well as yours. There are ties which can never be broken, and which you, in the goodness of your heart, would never wish to be broken. I should not like to hear from any man's lips that you think otherwise; I am afraid I should say something unpleasant to him."

Kingsley's cordial manner and cheerful voice would have mystified most men with a weaker order of mind than Mr. Manners's; but although this was not the case with the great contractor, he was certainly at a loss to account for them. He knew that Kingsley possessed a soul of frankness and honesty, and he could not readily bring himself to believe that it was cunning and duplicity which had induced his son to seek this interview. Still, for the exhibition of these qualities he would have been, as he always was with all men, perfectly prepared, but not for the ingenuousness with which he was now confronted. He thought to turn the tables upon Kingsley.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Quite well, father," replied Kingsley.

"And happy?"

"Quite happy, father."

"And prosperous?"

"To be quite well and happy," said Kingsley, in no spirit of evasion, "is not that a prosperous state?"

"You are quibbling with me," said Mr. Manners, "and I am not in the mood, and have no time for trifling."

"I shall not detain you long, father; you have eased my mind, and I shall go away presently, quite contented. As to quibbling, you, who know me so well and have been so good to me, must know that I am incapable of such conduct."

"I decline to argue with you. Come to the point at once. You wish to make some kind of appeal to me. I did hope that you had come in submission."

"I have, father; submission in all things that accord with one's duty."

"With your duty to me?"

"To you and to others who are dear to me."

"I will not listen," said Mr. Manners, "to anything concerning them."

"I will not force it upon you. There shall be nothing discordant between us. But what do you mean by 'appeal?'"

"You are here to ask for money, as those who have separated us have been here before you."

"Indeed, you are quite wrong. There has been, there shall be, no separation between us. I love you as I have always done, as I always shall love you. And they appealed to you for money! Did you give it to them?"

"No, nor will I to you."

"Oh, but I need none. You have been since my earliest remembrance most liberal to me, but you cannot accuse me of being mercenary. I should like you to know my wife, I should like you to know and love our child. If you are too busy for that now, we will wait; when you visit us, which surely you will do some day, you will be pleased at the manner in which we shall receive you; all the honor that is due to you shall be cheerfully rendered."

"This mockery must end," said Mr. Manners; "go! But, before you leave, it will, perhaps, be as well for me to say what is in my mind."

"Yes, father," said Kingsley, gently.

"I do not know," said Mr. Manners, in a set, hard tone, "whether I should ever have been inclined to forgive your disobedience and undutifulness; I do not know, after what has passed, whether, you being my son upon whom once all my hopes were centred, I should have been disposed to once more hold out my hand to you. I think it would not have been possible, but there may have been, at least, some remote chance of a partial reconciliation. If there was such a chance, you have utterly destroyed it by your conduct during the past few months."

"What conduct do you refer to?" asked Kingsley, smiling. "You surely are laboring under some delusion!"

"It is no delusion," said Mr. Manners, "that you have been travelling for some time with a person of infamous character and designs!"

"Surely it must be, father. Does the man live? If he does, he will disprove it."

"I will fall in with your humor," said Mr. Manners, "and will pay no attention to your amazing evasions; all the more amazing, all the more inexcusable, when adopted towards a man like myself. Do you pretend that you are unacquainted with the person who travelled under the name of Seymour? Do you pretend that travelling in close association with him as you did for so long a time, you had no connection with the designs he was wishful to promote?"

"You remind me strangely," replied Kingsley, "of something which has been troubling me--no, I am wrong in saying troubling me, I mean that has been interesting me. There have undoubtedly been some such designs as you refer to, mysterious and inexplicable enough to me, but the interesting part of the matter is, how did it ever come into my mind that I could have been associated with them? Clearly, I must have evolved the idea out of a too vivid imagination; because I cannot trace the slightest actual connection between me and them. Similarly, too, with the name you have mentioned--Seymour. How did it come into my mind that I knew such a gentleman? Clearly, he must have existed; and now there occurs to me a dim remembrance of a railway accident in which a gentleman of the name of Seymour was killed, and many were injured. How comes the knowledge of that circumstance to me? May I not also have evolved that from my imagination? Anyway, I shall not allow myself to be troubled by matters which I cannot directly trace, though I cannot avoid being interested in them. But what you have said has another bearing, as though I had done something to disgrace my name. Of course such a thing would be impossible, and if I am indebted to any ill-natured person for having aroused in you any suspicion to my hurt, I make him my hearty acknowledgments without bearing the slightest ill-will against him, because, after all, father, a serious calumny should not be allowed to have weight unless an absolute foundation of fact can be brought forward, as cannot be done in my case. Man must be judged by his own actions, not by what people say of him. You infer that this Mr. Seymour travelled to promote infamous designs with which you suppose me to be in sympathy. What designs, father?"

"Republicanism," said Mr. Manners, not displeased at being brought to the point, "Socialism, Communism, and the overthrow of existing institutions, which are a blessing to mankind."

"Ah, but there, you know," said Kingsley, with no departure from his light mood, "you open up debatable matter. It is not disagreeable to me. I was always fond of argument, although I have been accused of too freely wandering away from one upon the slightest excuse. You condemn Republicanism, but I think I would sooner live under a republic than a monarchy."

"What you say confirms the accusation I and others bring against you."

"Not at all. I am merely expressing my view of a large matter. You see, father, there is so much misery in the world, so much undeserved suffering, so much compulsory poverty, such astounding inequalities in the social condition of the people, that a fair-minded man cannot possibly avoid wishing to remedy these ills. What are you touching the bell for?"

"For the servant to show you to the door."

"I do not need him; I know my way out. Your time is valuable, and it is inconsiderate of me to take up so much of it. Is my mother in?"

"No."

"I am sorry; I wished to see her. She is well, I hope."

"Quite well. She has not a sorrow in the world. And now, for the last time, leave the room--and the house."

His peremptory, harsh tone had no effect upon Kingsley, who, with a genial nod and a "Good-morning, father," left the house with a light step.

In the evening he informed Nansie and Mr. Loveday of his visit to his father, and, to their astonishment, described it as one of a pleasant character. Their astonishment was all the greater when they read a letter which was delivered personally to Kingsley. It was from a firm of lawyers, and was written in accordance with instructions received from Mr. Manners. In the first place it conveyed an intimation that Kingsley would not be allowed again to enter his father's house; in the second place it contained a warning that if he made any further endeavor to force himself into his father's presence, proceedings would be taken against him for the trespass.

"I think," said Kingsley, "that lawyers must have been invented expressly to torment mankind; they never can put a thing pleasantly. My father, I suppose, is too busy to write to me himself, so he told his lawyers to do so, and they, wishing to make things as unpleasant as possible, send me a communication couched in terms which my father would certainly resent. Of course I shall not go to him again until he sends for me."

So saying, he tore up the letter and put it into the fire.

A few days afterwards it was announced in the papers that Mr. Manners had broken up his London establishment, and with his wife and his nephew, Mr. Mark Inglefield, had started on a foreign tour, which was likely to be of long duration. This paragraph was read by Kingsley, and caused in him the first spark of resentment he had exhibited since his return.

"I am sorry," he said, "that my father has taken up with such a man as Mark Inglefield. He is dangerous and coldblooded, and, I am afraid, no friend of mine. Not that I want him for a friend, but that, being with my father, he may say something against us. However, to use your dear mother's saying, Nansie, 'Everything will come right in the end.'"

With this comfortable assurance he dismissed the matter from his mind, as was his habit.

And here the course of our story renders it necessary that the curtain shall fall for a certain time. When it rises again seventeen years will have passed away.