--or Everett rather had renewed the quarrel with him.
There had been words between them about money lost at cards. Hard
words had been used, and Everett had told his father that if either
of them were a gambler it was not he. Mr. Wharton had resented this
bitterly and had driven his son from his presence,--and now the
quarrel made him very wretched. He certainly was sorry that he
had called his son a gambler, but his son had been, as he thought,
inexcusable in the retort which he had made. He was a man to whom
his friends gave credit for much sternness;--but still he was one
who certainly had no happiness in the world independent of his
children. His daughter had left him, not, as he thought, under happy
auspices,--and he was now, at this moment, soft-hearted and tender in
his regards as to her. What was there in the world for him but his
children? And now he felt himself to be alone and destitute. He was
already tired of whist at the Eldon. That which had been a delight to
him once or twice a week, became almost loathsome when it was renewed
from day to day;--and not the less when his son told him that he also
was a gambler. "So you have come back from Silverbridge?" he said.

"Yes, sir; I have come back, not exactly triumphant. A man should not
expect to win always." Lopez had resolved to pluck up his spirit and
carry himself like a man.

"You seem to have got into some scrape down there, besides losing
your election."

"Oh; you have seen that in the papers already. I have come to tell
you of it. As Emily is concerned in it you ought to know."

"Emily concerned! How is she concerned?"

Then Lopez told the whole story,--after his own fashion, and yet
with no palpable lie. Fletcher had written to her a letter which
he had thought to be very offensive. On hearing this, Mr. Wharton
looked very grave, and asked for the letter. Lopez said that he had
destroyed it, not thinking that such a document should be preserved.
Then he went on to explain that it had had reference to the election,
and that he had thought it to be highly improper that Fletcher should
write to his wife on that or on any other subject. "It depends very
much on the letter," said the old man.

"But on any subject,--after what has passed."

"They were very old friends."

"Of course I will not argue with you, Mr. Wharton; but I own that it
angered me. It angered me very much,--very much indeed. I took it to
be an insult to her, and when he accosted