ows the child's father; and
I could not ask him, though I have known him long and well--indeed, no."

"I do not ask to understand more," Gaston replied. "I almost wish I had
known nothing. And yet I will ask one thing: is the girl in comfort and
good surroundings?"

"The best--ah, yes, the very best."

There was a pause, in which both sat thinking; then Sir William wrote
out a cheque and offered it, with a hint of emotion. He was recalling
how he had done the same with this boy's father.

Gaston understood. He got up, and said: "Honestly, sir, I don't know how
I shall turn out here; for, if I didn't like it, it couldn't hold me,
or, if it did, I should probably make things uncomfortable. But I
think I shall like it, and I will do my best to make things go well.
Good-morning, sir."

With courteous attention Sir William let his grandson out of the room.

And thus did a young man begin his career as Gaston Belward, gentleman.

CHAPTER V. WHEREIN HE FINDS HIS ENEMY

How that career was continued there are many histories: Jock Lawson's
mother tells of it in her way, Mrs. Gasgoyne in hers, Hovey in hers,
Captain Maudsley in his; and so on. Each looks at it from an individual
stand-point. But all agree on two matters: that he did things hitherto
unknown in the countryside; and that he was free and affable, but could
pull one up smartly if necessary.

He would sit by the hour and talk with Bimley, the cottager; with
Rosher, the hotel-keeper, who when young had travelled far; with a
sailorman, home for a holiday, who said he could spin a tidy yarn; and
with Pogan, the groom, who had at last won Saracen's heart. But one day
when the meagre village chemist saw him cracking jokes with Beard, the
carpenter, and sidled in with a silly air of equality, which was merely
insolence, Gaston softly dismissed him, with his ears tingling. The
carpenter proved his right to be a friend of Gaston's by not changing
countenance and by never speaking of the thing afterwards.

His career was interesting during the eighteen months wherein society
papers chatted of him amiably and romantically. He had entered into the
joys of hunting with enthusiasm and success, and had made a fast and
admiring friend of Captain Maudsley; while Saracen held his own grandly.
He had dined with country people, and had dined them; had entered upon
the fag-end of the London season with keen, amused enjoyment; and had
engrafted every little use of the conv