ented, and had felt that such a speech had been iniquitous as
coming from a son. But his father had, at the moment, expressed no deep
animosity. Some sarcastic words had fallen from him of which Augustus
had not understood the bitterness. But he had remembered it since, and
was now not so much surprised at his father's wish to injure him as at
his power.

But could he have any such power? Mr. Grey, he knew, was on his side,
and Mr. Grey was a thorough lawyer. All the world was on his side,--all
the world having been instructed to think and to believe that Mr.
Scarborough had not been married till after Mountjoy was born. All the
world had been much surprised, and would be unwilling to encounter
another blow. Should he go into his father's room altogether penitent,
or should he hold up his head and justify himself?

One thing was brought home to him, by thinking, as a matter of which he
might be convinced. No penitence could now avail him anything. He had at
any rate by this time looked sufficiently into his father's character to
be sure that he would not forgive such an offence as had been his. Any
vice, any extravagance, almost any personal neglect, would have been
pardoned. "I have so brought him up," the father would have said, "and
the fault must be counted as my own." But his son had deliberately
expressed a wish for his father's death, and had expressed it in his
father's presence. He had shown not only neglect, which may arise at a
distance, and may not be absolutely intentional; but these words had
been said with the purpose of wounding, and were, and would be,
unpardonable. Augustus, as he went along the corridor to his father's
room, determined that he would at any rate not be penitent.

"Well, sir, how do you find yourself?" he said, walking in briskly and
putting out his hand to his father. The old man languidly gave his hand,
but only smiled. "I hear of you, though not from you, and they tell me
that you have not been quite so strong of late."

"I shall soon cease to stay and trouble you," said the squire, with
affected weakness, in a voice hardly above a whisper, using the very
words which Augustus had spoken.

"There have been some moments between us, sir, which have been,
unfortunately, unpleasant."

"And yet I have done so much to make them pleasant to you! I should have
thought that the offer of all Tretton would have gone for much with
you."

Augustus was again taken in. There was a piteous wh