from another, and that one your own flesh and blood? 'Vengeance is Mine,' saith God; 'I will repay.' And know this, proud man, that if it were to please God to strike you down in this revengeful frame of mind, my hands would refuse to administer to you the Blessed Sacrament to soothe your dying hours!" And so Mr. Elthorne left the house, after a short interview with Evelyn, in which he assured her of his entire belief in Wilfred's innocence.

As soon as the Rector had departed, Mr. Manwaring unlocked his black oak escritoire, and drew thence the lengthy parchment which contained the emblazoned pedigree of his Family. He then rang the bell, and when the old butler entered the room, he said, "Pinfold, I have called you to witness my act," and then with penknife and sandpaper he deliberately erased his younger son's name from the parchment. This done, he added, "When he who was my son arrives, show him to his room, and let him sup there; he leaves for London to-morrow, never to return. Tell the servants and people never to mention his name in my presence again. You will make the necessary preparations for his departure by the first train. In an hour's time I shall have a letter ready, which you will put into his

hands on his arrival. There, that will do; I will ring when the letter is ready."

So Pinfold retired, and the old man was left alone to write and to sign what, little as he knew it, was in veriest truth his own death-warrant.

WILFRED MANWARING GOES INTO EXILE.

YT was afternoon when Wilfred reached the home A of his fathers-that home which was no longer to be his. The old butler, whom he had known from childhood, and who, boy and man, had lived at the Manor for close on seventy years, regarded him with a puzzled air, as, according to the orders he had received, he showed him to his room. "Here be a letter for 'ee from the Squire, Master Wilfred," said he; and, putting a letter, sealed with a great coat of arms, into his hand, he hurried out of the room.

Wilfred burst open the missive. It was a terrible communication, and contained his father's decision concerning him-an ultimatum from which by experience he knew there was no appeal. Therein

his father refused to see him again, and discarded him as his son for ever. Under pain of his curse,

he commanded him to abandon the name of Manwaring, and, from the day following forward, to abstain from holding any correspondence either with himself or with any other member of his Family. He ordered him to prepare to start next morning by the 7.40 train from Oswaldshaugh, which was the nearest railway station (with characteristic formality and littleness of mind, the writer prided himself on inserting this detail), and directed him to go to London, and present himself at the office of his Town solicitors, Messrs. Prodgers & Sharpin, who, as he was no longer worthy to bear the Family Name, had directions to apprentice him under that of Thomas Brown to some respectable grocer in a distant part of England. "You have forfeited the right to call yourself a Gentleman, or to associate with the equals of my Family. I have therefore desired my solicitors to pay the premium necessary for your apprenticeship to a trade; and lest you should be tempted to further crime, I enclose a note for £10. This is the last remittance and the last communication you will ever receive from him whose disgrace it is that he was once your father.-C. P. M."

When the boy had read this dreadful letter, he sat like one dazed, white and still, with silent tears of anguish flowing down his pallid cheeks. He was roused by the entrance of his sister, who rushed into the room, flung her arms around him, and mingled her tears with his.

“My darling, darling brother!" she cried at length. "Then you don't believe me guilty, Evelyn?" gasped out the wretched boy.

"Guilty? No, impossible!" she cried, clinging to him fondly.

"Then I have some hope left in life," answered the lad, in low, measured tones.

"My darling brother," resumed Evelyn, "how my heart does bleed for you!"

"God bless you, dear," said Wilfred. "But, tell me, what will Lionel think, when he hears I am sent away from home as a thief?"

Yes, what would Lionel think? that bright, brave Captain of Dragoons, whom Wilfred had ever looked up to as his ideal of a knight of old; that kind and noble brother, who loved him so well, and had taught him to swim and ride and shoot, and who, from African bivouacs and African fastnesses, wrote him such tender letters? It was a bitter thought, and Wilfred wept afresh.