“You are eloquent, Mr Allcraft, in a bad cause.”

“Pardon me, Mrs Mildred,” answered the passionate youth immediately, and with much bitterness, “but in the next street you shall find one eloquent in a worse.  There is what some of us are pleased to call a popular preacher there.  I speak the plain and simple truth, and say he is a hireling—­a paid actor, without the credit that attaches to the open exercise of an honourable profession.  The owner of the chapel is a usurer, or money-lender—­no speculation answers so well as this snug property.  The ranter exhibits to his audience once a-week—­the place is crowded when he appears upon the stage—­deserted when he is absent, and his place is occupied by one who fears, perhaps, to tamper with his God—­is humble, honest, quiet.  The crowds who throng to listen to the one, and will not hear the other, profess to worship God in what they dare to call his sanctuary, and look with pity on such as have not courage to unite in all their hideous mockery.”

Right or wrong, it was evident that Michael was in earnest.  He spoke warmly, but with a natural vehemence that by no means disfigured his good-looking visage, now illuminated with unusual fire.  In these days of hollowness and hypocrisy, an ingenuous straightforward character is a refreshing spectacle, and commands our admiration, be the principles it represents just what they may.  Hence, possibly, the unaffected pleasure with which Margaret listened to her visitor whilst he declaimed against men and things previously regarded by her with reverence and awe.  He certainly was winning on her esteem.  Women are the strangest beings!  Let them guard against these natural and impetuous characters, say I. The business papers lay very quietly on the table, whilst the conversation flowed as easily into another channel.  Poets and poetry were again the subject of discourse; and here our Michael was certainly at home.  The displeasure which he had formerly exhibited passed like a cloud from his brow; he grew elated, criticized writer after writer, recited compositions, illustrated them with verses from the French and German; repeated his own modest attempts at translation, gave his hearer an idea of Goethe, Uhland, Wieland, and the smaller fry of German poets, and pursued his theme, in short, until listener and reciter both were charmed and gratified beyond expression—­she, with his talents and his manners—­he, with her patience and attention, and, perhaps, her face and figure.

Mr Allcraft, junior, after having proceeded in the above fashion for about three hours, suddenly recollected that he had made a few appointments at the banking-house.  He looked at his watch, and discovered that he was just two hours behind the latest.  Both blushed, and looked ridiculous.  He rose, however, and took his leave, asking and receiving her permission to pay another visit on the following day for the purpose of arranging their eternal “business