little as he cares for opinion--what did he do but shift hands
altogether? He made up his mind to confer the honor of his hand on you,
having seen you somewhere in London, and his tactics became the very
opposite of what they had been hitherto. Your father's innocence now
must be maintained instead of his guiltiness.

"With this in view, he was fool enough to set the detective police after
me--me, who could snap all their noses off! For he saw how your heart
was all set on one thing, and expected to have you his serf forever,
by the simple expedient of hanging me. The detectives failed, as they
always do. He also failed in his overtures to you.

"You did your utmost against me also, for which I bear you no ill-will,
but rather admire your courage. You acted in a straightforward way, and
employed no dirty agency. Of your simple devices I had no fear. However,
I thought it as well to keep an eye upon that Hockin, and a worthy old
fool, some relation of his, who had brought you back from America. To
this end I kept my head-quarters near him, and established my mother
comfortably. She was ordered sea air, and has had enough. To-morrow I
shall remove her. By the time you receive this letter we shall both be
far away, and come back no more; but first I shall punish that Hockin.
Without personal violence this will be done.

"Now what I propose to you is simple, moderate, and most strictly just.
My mother's little residue of life must pass in ease and comfort. She
has wronged no one, but ever been wronged. Allow her 300 pounds a year,
to be paid as I shall direct you. For myself I will not take a farthing.
You will also restore, as I shall direct, the trinket upon which she
sets great value, and for which I sought vainly when we came back to
England. I happen to know that you have it now.

"In return for these just acts, you have the right to set forth the
whole truth publicly, to proclaim your father's innocence, and (as
people will say) his chivalry; and, which will perhaps rejoice you also,
to hear no more of

"THOMAS HOYLE.

"P.S.--Of course I am trusting your honor in this. But your father's
daughter can be no sneak; as indeed I have already proved."

CHAPTER LVI

WITH HIS OWN SWORD

"What a most wonderful letter!" cried the Major, when, after several
careful perusals, I thought it my duty to show it to him. "He calls me
a 'worthy old fool,' does he? Well, I call him something a great deal
worse--an unwo