ubject which he always kept resolutely curtained in his own
mind; for he was a man who loved to have made no mistakes, and, when he
feared he might have made one, kept the papers sealed. In view of all
these surprises and reminders, and of his son's composed and masterful
demeanour, there began to creep on Mr. Nicholson a sickly misgiving. He
seemed beyond his depth; if he did or said anything, he might come to
regret it. The young man, besides, as he had pointed out himself, was
playing a generous part. And if wrong had been done--and done to one who
was after, and in spite of all, a Nicholson--it should certainly be
righted.

All things considered, monstrous as it was to be cut short in his
inquiries, the old gentleman submitted, pocketed the change, and
followed his son into the dining-room. During these few steps he once
more mentally revolted, and once more, and this time finally, laid down
his arms: a still, small voice in his bosom having informed him
authentically of a piece of news: that he was afraid of Alexander. The
strange thing was that he was pleased to be afraid of him. He was proud
of his son; he might be proud of him; the boy had character and grit,
and knew what he was doing.

These were his reflections as he turned the corner of the dining-room
door. Miss Mackenzie was in the place of honour, conjuring with a teapot
and a cosy; and, behold! there was another person present, a large,
portly, whiskered man of a very comfortable and respectable air, who now
rose from his seat and came forward, holding out his hand.

"Good-morning, father," said he.

Of the contention of feeling that ran high in Mr. Nicholson's starched
bosom, no outward sign was visible; nor did he delay long to make a
choice of conduct. Yet in that interval he had reviewed a great field of
possibilities both past and future: whether it was possible he had not
been perfectly wise in his treatment of John; whether it was possible
that John was innocent; whether, if he turned John out a second time, as
his outraged authority suggested, it was possible to avoid a scandal;
and whether, if he went to that extremity, it was possible that
Alexander might rebel.

"Hum!" said Mr. Nicholson, and put his hand, limp and dead, into John's.

And then, in an embarrassed silence, all took their places; and even the
paper--from which it was the old gentleman's habit to suck mortification
daily, as he marked the decline of our institutions--even th