ted whether he had not
gained as much as he had lost. German and French were the same to
him as his native tongue; and he returned to the life of an English
country gentleman young enough to learn to ride to hounds, and to
live as he found others living around him.

Very little was said, or indeed ever had been said, between the
father and son as to their relative position in reference to the
property. Ralph,--the illegitimate Ralph,--knew well enough and had
always known, that the estate was not to be his. He had known this
so long that he did not remember the day when he had not known it.
Occasionally the Squire would observe with a curse that this or
that could not be done with the property,--such a house pulled down,
or such another built, this copse grupped up, or those trees cut
down,--because of that reprobate up in London. As to pulling down,
there was no probability of interference now, though there had been
much of such interference in the life of the old rector. "Ralph,"
he had once said to his brother the rector, "I'll marry and have a
family yet if there is another word about the timber." "I have not
the slightest right or even wish to object to your doing so," said
the rector; "but as long as things are on their present footing, I
shall continue to do my duty." Soon after that it had come to pass
that the brothers so quarrelled that all intercourse between them was
at an end. Such revenge, such absolute punishment as that which the
Squire had threatened, would have been very pleasant to him;--but not
even for such pleasure as that would he ruin the boy whom he loved.
He did not marry, but saved money, and dreamed of buying up the
reversion of his nephew's interest.

His son was just two years older than our Ralph up in London, and
his father was desirous that he should marry. "Your wife would be
mistress of the house,--as long as I live, at least," he had once
said. "There are difficulties about it," said the son. Of course
there were difficulties. "I do not know whether it is not better that
I should remain unmarried," he said, a few minutes later. "There are
men whom marriage does not seem to suit,--I mean as regards their
position." The father turned away, and groaned aloud when he was
alone. On the evening of that day, as they were sitting together over
their wine, the son alluded, not exactly to the same subject, but to
the thoughts which had arisen from it within his own mind. "Father,"
he said, "