savings. Such was his announcement, in a very excited
voice, but incidentally upon a solemn adjuration to the squire to beware
of his temper--govern his temper and not be a turncoat.

We were present at the head of the supper-table to hear our healths
drunk. Sewis spoke like a half-caste oblivious of his training, and of
the subjects he was at liberty to touch on as well. Evidently there was
a weight of foreboding on his mind. He knew his master well. The squire
excused him under the ejaculation, 'Drunk, by the Lord!' Sewis went so
far as to mention my father 'He no disgrace, sar, he no disgrace, I say!
but he pull one way, old house pull other way, and 'tween 'em my little
Harry torn apieces, squire. He set out in the night "You not enter it
any more!" Very well. I go my lawyer next day. You see my Will, squire.
Years ago, and little Harry so high. Old Sewis not the man to change. He
no turncoat, squire. God bless you, my master; you recollect, and ladies
tell you if you forget, old Sewis no turncoat. You hate turncoat.
You taught old Sewis, and God bless you, and Mr. Harry, and British
Constitution, all Amen!'

With that he bounded to bed. He was dead next morning.

The squire was humorous over my legacy. It amounted to about seventeen
hundred pounds invested in Government Stock, and he asked me what I
meant to do with it; proposed a Charity to be established on behalf
of decayed half-castes, insisting that servants' money could never be
appropriated to the uses of gentlemen. All the while he was muttering,
'Turncoat! eh? turncoat?'--proof that the word had struck where it was
aimed. For me, after thinking on it, I had a superstitious respect for
the legacy, so I determined, in spite of the squire's laughter over
'Sixty pounds per annum!' to let it rest in my name: I saw for the first
time the possibility that I might not have my grandfather's wealth to
depend upon. He warned me of growing miserly. With my father in London,
living freely on my property, I had not much fear of that. However, I
said discreetly, 'I don't mind spending when I see my way.'

'Oh! see your way,' said he. 'Better a niggard than a chuckfist.
Only, there 's my girl: she 's good at accounts. One 'll do for them,
Harry?--ha'n't been long enough at home yet?'

Few were the occasions when our conversation did not diverge to this
sort of interrogation. Temple and Heriot, with whom I took counsel,
advised me to wait until the idea of the princess