part of your letter. I do not
know how I could have borne it, if it had ended as it began. I hope you
will soon send me these proofs of Philip's. Ever your affectionate, 'G.
M.'

Not a little surprised was Philip to find that he was known to be Guy's
accuser; but the conclusion revealed that his style had betrayed him,
and that Mr. Edmonstone had finished with some mention of him, and
he resolved that henceforth he would never leave a letter of his own
dictation till he had seen it signed and sealed.

'Well!' cried Mr. Edmonstone, joyfully beating his own hand with his
glove, 'that is all right. I knew it would be so. He can't even
guess what we are at. I am glad we did not tease poor little Amy. Eh,
mamma?--eh, Philip?' the last eh being uttered much more doubtfully, and
less triumphantly than the first.

'I wonder you think it right,' said Philip.

'What more would you have?' said Mr. Edmonstone, hastily.

'Confidence.'

'Eh? Oh, ay, he says he can't tell--bound in honour.'

'It is easy to write off-hand, and say I cannot satisfy you, I am
bound in honour; but that is not what most persons would think a full
justification, especially considering the terms on which you stand.'

'Why, yes, he might have said more. It would have been safe enough with
me.'

'It is his usual course of mystery, reserve, and defiance.'

'The fact is,' said Mr. Edmonstone, turning away, 'that it is a very
proper letter; right sense, proper feeling--and if he never gamed in his
life, what would you have more?'

'There are different ways of understanding such a denial as this,' said
Philip. 'See, he says not in the way in which I suppose.' He held up
his hand authoritatively, as his aunt was about to interpose. 'It was
against gaming that his vow was made. I never thought he had played, but
he never says he has not betted.'

'He would never be guilty of a subterfuge!' exclaimed Mr. Edmonstone,
indignantly.

'I should not have thought so, without the evidence of the payment of
the cheque, my uncle had just given him, to this gambling fellow,' said
Philip; 'yet it is only the natural consequence of the habit of eluding
inquiry into his visits to London.'

'I can't see any reason for so harsh an accusation,' said she.

'I should hardly want more reason than his own words. He refuses to
answer the question on which my uncle's good opinion depends; he owns he
has been to blame, and thus retracts his full denial. In my opinion, h