never blabs."

"Well, my plan is to keep it close. You're never safe if you don't.--I
never drank much claret before," Ripton was off again. "Won't I now,
though! claret's my wine. You know, it may come out any day, and then
we're done for," he rather incongruously appended.

Richard only took up the business-thread of his friend's rambling
chatter, and answered:

"You've got nothing to do with it, if we are."

"Haven't I, though! I didn't stick-in the box but I'm an accomplice,
that's clear. Besides," added Ripton, "do you think I should leave you
to bear it all on your shoulders? I ain't that sort of chap, Ricky, I
can tell you."

Sir Austin thought more highly of the boy Thompson. Still it looked a
detestable conspiracy, and the altered manner of his son impressed him
strangely. He was not the boy of yesterday. To Sir Austin it seemed as
if a gulf had suddenly opened between them. The boy had embarked, and
was on the waters of life in his own vessel. It was as vain to call him
back as to attempt to erase what Time has written with the Judgment
Blood! This child, for whom he had prayed nightly in such a fervour and
humbleness to God, the dangers were about him, the temptations thick on
him, and the devil on board piloting. If a day had done so much, what
would years do? Were prayers and all the watchfulness he had expended of
no avail?

A sensation of infinite melancholy overcame the poor gentleman--a thought