Falconer's society, when not under
orders, after what had occurred? Other people, who know nothing of
that occurrence, would see nothing strange in their being together.
But I would swear the boy was not so lost to honourable feeling as to
have been Falconer's companion after what had taken place here."

"'Twas no loss of honourable feeling that made him Falconer's
companion!" said I, impulsively.

"Then," cried he, quickly, with eagerness in his voice, "'twas to
fight Falconer?"

"I didn't say that."

"Thank God, then, if he had to die, 'twas not as that man's friend,
but his antagonist! My poor, brave Tom! My noble boy! Oh, would I had
known him better while he lived!"

"He was all that is chivalrous and true, sir."

"I wanted only this assurance. I felt it in my heart. Don't fear my
betraying you; I understand how these affairs have to be managed at
such times. Alas, if I had but known in time to prevent! Well, well,
'tis too late now. But there is one person I must confide this
to--Philip."

"But I haven't told you anything, sir."

"Quite true; and therefore what I shall confide to Philip will not be
of your telling. He will be silent, too. We shall make no disclosures.
Falconer shall receive his punishment in another manner."

"He shall, sir," said I, with a positiveness which, in his feeling of
sorrow, and yet relief, to know that Tom had died as champion of the
family honour, escaped his notice. I thereupon took my leave.

As I afterward came to know, he sent Philip an account of the whole
lamentable affair, from Ned's reappearance to Tom's death; it was
written in a cipher agreed upon between the two, and 'twas carried by
Bill Meadows. Mr. Faringfield deemed it better that Philip should know
the whole truth from his relation, than learn of Madge's departure,
and Tom's fate, from other accounts, which must soon reach his ears in
any case.

I know not exactly how many days later it was, that, having a free
evening in the town, I went to the Faringfield house in hope of
bearing some cheer with me. But 'twas in vain. Mrs. Faringfield was
keeping her chamber, and requiring Fanny's attendance. Mr. Faringfield
sat in a painful reverie, before the parlour fire; scarce looked up
when I entered; and seemed to find the lively spirits I brought in
from the cold outer world, a jarring note upon his mood. He had not
ordered candles: the firelight was more congenial to his meditations.
Mr. Cornelius sat in a da