ch pleased him. "My dear aunt Mary always says that you are
the cleverest man in the world; and she must know most about it."

"Partiality! partiality!" cried the Major, with a laugh, and pulling his
front hair up. "Such things pass by me like the idle wind; or rather,
perhaps, they sadden me, from my sense of my own deficiencies. But,
bless me! dinner must be waiting. Look at that fellow's trowel--he
knows: he turns up the point of it like a spoon. They say that he can
smell his dinner two miles off. We all dine at one o'clock now, that I
may rout up every man-Jack of them."

The Major sounded a steam-guard's whistle, and led me off in the rapidly
vanishing wake of his hungry workmen.

CHAPTER XLV

CONVICTION

Sir Montague Hockin, to my great delight, was still away from Bruntsea.
If he had been there, it would have been a most awkward thing for me to
meet him, or to refuse to do so. The latter course would probably have
been the one forced upon me by self-respect and affection toward my
cousin; and yet if so, I could scarcely have avoided an explanation with
my host. From the nature of the subject, and several other reasons, this
would have been most unpleasant; and even now I was haunted with doubts,
as I had been from the first, whether I ought not to have told Mrs.
Hockin long ago what had been said of him. At first sight that seemed
the honest thing to do; but three things made against it. It might seem
forward and meddlesome; it must be a grievous thing to my cousin to have
his sad story discussed again; and lastly, I had promised Mrs. Price
that her words should go no further. So that on the whole perhaps I
acted aright in keeping that infamous tale to myself as long as ever it
was possible.

But now ere ever I spoke of him--which I was always loath to do--Mrs.
Hockin told me that he very seldom came to see them now, and when he did
come he seemed to be uneasy and rather strange in his manners. I thought
to myself that the cause of this was clear. Sir Montague, knowing that I
went to Castlewood, was pricked in his conscience, and afraid of having
his vile behavior to my cousin disclosed. However, that idea of mine
was wrong, and a faulty conception of simple youth. The wicked forgive
themselves so quickly, if even they find any need of it, that every body
else is supposed to do the same. With this I have no patience. A
wrong unrepented of and unatoned gathers interest, instead of getting
discount, f