should have liked him better if he had not brought me down to Tretton,
so as to extract from me whatever he can. I shall be more guarded in
future in speaking of Mountjoy Scarborough; but to you I give my
positive assurance, which I do not doubt you will believe, that I know
nothing respecting him." An honest indignation gleamed in his eyes as he
spoke; but still there were the signs of that vacillation about his
mouth which Florence had been able to read, but not to interpret.

"Yes," said the squire, after a pause, "I believe you. You haven't that
kind of ingenuity which enables a man to tell a lie and stick to it. I
have. It's a very great gift if a man be enabled to restrain his
appetite for lying." Harry could only smile when he heard the squire's
confession. "Only think how I have lied about Mountjoy; and how
successful my lies might have been, but for his own folly!"

"People do judge you a little harshly now," said Harry.

"What's the odd's? I care nothing for their judgment; I endeavored to do
justice to my own child, and very nearly did it. I was very nearly
successful in rectifying the gross injustice of the world. Why should a
little delay in a ceremony in which he had no voice have robbed him of
his possessions? I determined that he should have Tretton, and I
determined also to make it up to Augustus by denying myself the use of
my own wealth. Things have gone wrongly not by my own folly. I could not
prevent the mad career which Mountjoy has run; but do you think that I
am ashamed because the world knows what I have done? Do you suppose my
death-bed will be embittered by the remembrance that I have been a liar?
Not in the least. I have done the best I could for my two sons, and in
doing it have denied myself many advantages. How many a man would have
spent his money on himself, thinking nothing of his boys, and then have