s not likely, he thought,
that he should seek a wife among those who would reject him, with all
his other advantages, because he had no just title to his father's
name. That he should take joy in what had been done on his behalf
was only natural; but as he stood with Gregory, waiting for his
father to come to them, he showed no sign of joy. At last the Squire
came. There certainly was triumph in his eye, but he did not speak
triumphantly. It was impossible that some word should not be spoken
between them as to the disposition of the property. "I suppose Ralph
has told you," he said, "what he has done up in London?"

"Yes;--he has told me," said Gregory.

"I hope there will now be an end of all family ill-feeling among us,"
said the uncle. "Your brother shall be as welcome at the old place
as I trust you have always found yourself. If he likes to bring his
horses here, we shall be delighted."

The parson muttered something as to the kindness with which he had
ever been treated, but what he said was said with an ill grace. He
was almost broken-hearted, and thoroughly wished himself back in
his own solitude. The Squire saw it all, and did not press him to
talk;--said not a word more of his purchase, and tried to create some
little interest about parish matters;--asked after the new building
in the chancel, and was gracious about this old man and that young
woman. But Gregory could not recover himself,--could not recall his
old interests, or so far act a part as to make it seem that he was
not thinking of the misfortune which had fallen upon the family. In
every look of his eyes and every tone of his voice he was telling
the son that he was a bastard, and the father that he was destroying
the inheritance of the family. But yet they bore with him, and
endeavoured to win him back to pleasantness. Soon after the cloth was
taken away he took his leave. He had work to do at home, he said, and
must go. His uncle went out with him into the hall, leaving Ralph
alone in the parlour. "It will be for the best in the long run," said
the Squire, with his hand on his nephew's shoulder.

"Perhaps it may, sir. I am not pretending to say. Good night." As he
walked home across the park, through the old trees which he had known
since he was an infant, he told himself that it could not be for the
best that the property should be sent adrift, out of the proper line.
The only thing to be desired now was that neither he nor his brother
shoul