e injury done by the story to his mother's name. The story
was too true. Mr. Grey knew that it was true; but he could not on that
account do other than feel an intense desire to confer some benefit on
Mountjoy Scarborough. He put his hand out affectionately and laid it on
the other man's knee. "Your father has not long to live, Captain
Scarborough."

"I suppose not."

"And he is at present anxious to make what reparation is in his power.
What he can leave you will produce, let us say, fifteen hundred a year.
Without a will from him you would have to live on your brother's
bounty."

"By Heaven, no!" said Mountjoy, thinking of the pistol and the bullets.

"I see nothing else."

"I see, but I cannot explain."

"Do you not think that fifteen hundred a year would be better than
nothing,--with a wife, let us say?" said Mr. Grey, beginning to introduce
the one argument on which he believed so much must depend.

"With a wife?"

"Yes; with a wife."

"With what wife? A wife may be very well, but a wife must depend on who
it is. Is there any one that you mean?"

"Not exactly any particular person," said the lawyer, lamely.

"Pshaw! What do I want with a wife? Do you mean to say that my father
has told you that he intends to clog his legacy with the burden of a
wife? I would not accept it with such a burden,--unless I could choose
the wife myself. To tell the truth, there is a girl--"

"Your cousin?"

"Yes; my cousin. When I was well-to-do in the world I was taught to
believe that I could have her. If she will be mine, Mr. Grey, I will
renounce gambling altogether. If my father can manage that I will
forgive him,--or will endeavor to do so. The property which he can leave
me shall be settled altogether upon her. I will endeavor to reform
myself, and so to live that no misfortune shall come upon her. If that
is what you mean, say so."

"Well, not quite that."

"To no other marriage will I agree. That has been the dream of my life
through all those moments of hot excitement and assured despair which I
have endured. Her mother has always told me that it should be so, and
she herself in former days did not deny it. Now you know it all. If my
father wishes to see me married, Florence Mountjoy must be my wife."
Then he sunk back on his seat, and nothing more was said between them
till they had reached Tretton.

The father and son had not met each other since the day on which the
former had told the latter the story