h on that subject.
'The least said is soonest mended,' as the old proverb has it."

"Why not, Murphy?"

"My lord, you will do what you think proper."

"I do what is just," said Rodolph, with an air of impatience.

"What is just, according to your own interpretation."

"What is just before God and my own conscience," replied Rodolph, in a
severe tone.

"Well, my lord, this is a point on which we cannot agree, and therefore
let us speak no more about it."

"I desire you will continue to talk about it!" cried Rodolph,
imperiously.

"I have never been so circumstanced that your royal highness should have
to bid me hold my tongue, and I hope I shall not now be ordered to speak
when I should be silent," said Murphy, proudly.

"Mr. Murphy!" said Rodolph, with a tone of increased irritation.

"My lord!"

"You know, sir, how greatly I detest anything like concealment."

"Your royal highness will excuse me, but it suits me to have certain
concealments," said Murphy, bluntly.

"If I descend to familiarity with you, sir, it is on condition that you,
at least, act with entire frankness towards me."

It is impossible to describe the extreme hauteur which marked the
countenance of Rodolph as he uttered these words.

"I am fifty years of age, I am a gentleman, and your royal highness
should not address me in such a tone."

"Be silent!"

"My lord!"

"Be silent! I say."

"Your royal highness does wrong in compelling a man of honour and
feeling to recall the services he has rendered to you," said the squire,
in a calm tone.

"Have I not repaid those services in a thousand ways?"

It should be stated that Rodolph had not attached to these bitter words
the humiliating sense which could place Murphy in the light of a
mercenary; but such, unfortunately, was the esquire's interpretation of
them. He became purple with shame, lifted his two clenched hands to his
forehead with an expression of deep grief and indignation, and then, in
a moment, as by a sudden revulsion of feeling, throwing his eyes on
Rodolph, whose noble countenance was convulsed by the violence of
extreme disdain, he said, in a faltering voice, and stifling a sigh of
the tenderest pity, "My lord, be yourself; you surpass the bounds of
reason."

These words impelled Rodolph to the very height of irritation; his
glance had even a savage glare in it; his lips were blanched; and,
advancing towards Murphy with a threatening aspect, he exclaimed, "Dare
y