GILLIAN.
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weakness. I have nothing to complain of except
the smallness of my means.”
“Certainly, Michael, you have had no lack of money during the past year; I was quite startled yesterday at recalling the amount of your ex> penditures.”
“You do not expect a young man to live like a hermit, I suppose,” Hurst said, impertinently.
“Perhaps not; but I expect him to be just to himself and to those who feel an interest in him.”
“I know of no one who has any in me.”
“You are angry, Michael, and therefore 1 excuse your injustice.”
“I am not angry, Mrs. Ransom, but I do not choose to be treated like a child, to have every wish thwarted, to be told that I have no right to enjoy life like others of my age.”
“You have no right to allow yourself to be drawn into extravagances, the demands of which it is out of your power to meet; no man has any right to do that.”
“You have told me all this, madam, many times.”
“Do not fear, Michael, that I shall repeat it. I have tried to be a good friend to you; I have bad an interest in you for which you could never account, and surely when I see you leading a life that I know to be wrong, I have at least a right to expostulate.”
“I will allow no one to play the tyrant over me—my actions shall be free.”
A withering retort trembled on Mrs. Ransom’s lips, but she checked it, she could not find it in her heart to reproach any one with her bounty, and she knew well that Hurst’s only hope was in her.
“That is childish,” she said, after a moment’s pause; “a few years since such language could be tolerated, but you have grown too old now for it to be excusable.”
Hurst struggled for self-command. At that moment he fairly hated the woman who had been his benefactress. Ho had that weak, false pride which made him rebel against receiving a favor, although he never hesitated to aooopt it, nay, even to claim it as his right.
“ Tell me what brought you here this morning, Michael?” Mrs. Ransom said, more kindly; “you came on business—what was its nature?”
“I want money,” he said, sullenly, “and I must have it from some source.”
“More money? Have you forgotten how few weeks have elapsed since your debts were paid, and a large amount beyond placed in your hands?”
“Remind me of all I owe you!” he exclaimed,
jj with reckless bitterness; “make me feel wholly
£ base and degraded—I am at your mercy.”
\ “Indeed I did not mean that; were you my j> own son I should say to you what I am now $ doing.”
v “Can you procure me the money I need?” he s asked, bluntly.
\ “I shall give you none at present. If you ^ have wasted the sum I put in your hands, not a I month since, on condition that you would con- $ duct yourself very differently, I cannot help it— ^ I am powerless to aid you at present.” j “That means you will not!” he cried, angrily.
“This is your boasted kindness; this is a proof of the interest you profess for me.”
I “You are rapidly wearing out all such feel¬ ings, Michael. Have a care! You, with no op¬ position, will listen to no counsel. Before long I shall cease to offer any; but when that time comes 1 shall have lost all interest in you.” “Let it come,” he replied, defiantly, lifting his head and looking boldly in her face, while his eyes grew black and inflamed with anger, “Let it come! I want to feel that I am entirely alone in the world—no resource—no friend. Go on, Mrs. Ransom.”
“Oh! boy, boy, how you wrong yourself and me! Have I deserved this?”
“Mrs. Ransom, I have no time to trifle; I must have money, my honor depends on that.” “You have been gambling again! No, Michael,
I will not aid you. Six months ago I told you that I would never pay another gaming debt, and I will not.”
“Then let me go, I must find it elsewhere!” “Stop! Michael, you shall not leave this house in a mood like that! You must listen to me—I have a right to demand it.”
“What right, madam? I admit no right that any one has over me.”
“I might reply very bitterly, young man; it is not for your sake that I refrain! Still I have a right—my affection for you has given it to me; no parent ever watched over a son more faith- fully than I have done over you.”
“Who were my parents?” he asked, abruptly; “where are they? why have I been left all my life to the mercy of strangers ?”
Mrs. Ransom made no answer. In her ex- citement she had risen from her seat, and was standing directly before him. A strange pallor, which in moments of intense feeling troubled her face, swept over it then; her large, grey eyes, not beautiful at ordinary times, grew bright and dark, while her white lips parted in a vain at- tempt to speak. Hurst was startled by her ap- pearance; even through his reckless anger he
