y tell me
that you have given the others immense advantage by your openly declared
doubts as to your title."

"That is possible. I will not deny that I may have acted imprudently.
The compromise to which I at first agreed struck me, on reflection,
as so ignoble and dishonorable, that I rushed just as rashly into the
opposite extreme. I felt, in fact, George, as though I owed this man a
reparation for having ever thought of stifling his claim; and I carried
this sentiment so far that Sedley asked me one day, in a scornful tone,
what ill my family had done me, I was so bent on ruining them? Oh, my
dear friend, if it be a great relief to me to open my heart to you, it
is with shame I confess that I cannot tell you truthfully how weak and
unable I often feel to keep straight in the path I have assigned myself.
How, when some doubt of this man's right shoots across me, I hail the
hesitation like a blessing from heaven. What I would do, what I would
endure that he could not show his claim to be true, I dare not own. I
have tried to reverse our positions in my own mind, and imagine I was
he; but I cannot pursue the thought, for whenever the dread final rises
before me, and I picture to myself our ruin and destitution, I can but
think of him, as a deadly implacable enemy. This sacrifice, then, that I
purpose to make with a pure spirit and a high honor, is too much for me.
I have not courage for that I am doing; but I'll do it still!"

L'Estrange did his utmost to rally him out of his depression, assuring
him that, as the world went, few men would have attempted to do what he
had determined on, and frankly owning, that in talking over the matter
with Julia, they were both disposed to regard his conduct as verging on
Quixotism.

"And that is exactly the best thing people will say of it. I am lucky
if they will even speak so favorably."

"What's this,--a telegram?" cried L'Estrange, as the servant handed him
one of those square-shaped missives, so charged with destiny that one
really does not know whether to bless or curse the invention, which,
annihilating space, brings us so quickly face to face with fortune.

"Read it, George; I cannot," muttered Bramleigh, as he stood against a
tree for support.

[Illustration: 438]

"Ten o'clock. Court-house, Navan. Jury just come out--cannot agree to
verdict--discharged. New trial. I write post.

"Sedley."

"Thank heaven, there is at least a respite," said Bramleigh; and he fell