what Gaston's ideas were,
and questioned him as to his present affairs. Gaston frankly said that
he wanted to live as his father would have done, and that he had no
property, and no money beyond a hundred pounds, which would last him a
couple of years on the prairies, but would be fleeting here.

Sir William at once said that he would give him a liberal allowance,
with, of course, the run of his own stables and their house in town: and
when he married acceptably, his allowance would be doubled.

"And I wish to say, Gaston," he added, "that your uncle Ian, though
heir to the title, does not necessarily get the property, which is not
entailed. Upon that point I need hardly say more. He has disappointed
us.

"Through him Robert left us. Of his character I need not speak. Of his
ability the world speaks variably: he is an artist. Of his morals I need
only say that they are scarcely those of an English gentleman, though
whether that is because he is an artist, I cannot say--I really cannot
say. I remember meeting a painter at Lord Dunfolly's,--Dunfolly is
a singular fellow--and he struck me chiefly as harmless, distinctly
harmless. I could not understand why he was at Dunfolly's, he seemed of
so little use, though Lady Malfire, who writes or something, mooned
with him a good deal. I believe there was some scandal or something
afterwards. I really do not know. But you are not a painter, and I
believe you have character--I fancy so."

"If you mean that I don't play fast and loose, sir, you are right. What
I do, I do as straight as a needle." The old man sighed carefully.

"You are very like Robert, and yet there is something else. I don't
know, I really don't know what!"

"I ought to have more in me than the rest of the family, sir."

This was somewhat startling. Sir William's fingers stroked his beardless
cheek uncertainly. "Possibly--possibly."

"I've lived a broader life, I've got wider standards, and there are
three races at work in me."

"Quite so, quite so;" and Sir William fumbled among his papers
nervously.

"Sir," said Gaston suddenly, "I told you last night the honest story of
my life. I want to start fair and square. I want the honest story of my
father's life here; how and why he left, and what these letters mean."

He took from his pocket the notes he had found the night before, and
handed them. Sir William read them with a disturbed look, and turned
them over and over. Gaston told where he had found