matters. As it was the whole story came out, your brother
was 'sent down' and those sharks the tradespeople, poured bills upon
your father's head."

"Yes," Joyce said, "which my father, my dear father, paid. What does
Melville owe you?"

"A pretty round sum, but I would let it rest at five hundred pounds."

"Five hundred! Oh! it is impossible we could pay that. I will ask Mr.
Watson and Mr. Paget----"

"Pray do nothing of the sort," said Lord Maythorne, with lofty
superiority; "it is a mere trifle, but just now it happens to be a
little inconvenient. The debts are such, as no _honourable_ man would
leave unpaid. I promised Melville to keep them secret, and I have no
wish to let the town crier go about with the news, but I naturally
judged that on the death of his father, your brother would come into his
fortune, and repay me."

"I do not think it is possible," Joyce said. "My dear father had so many
sons, and it was hard to provide for them. Please let me think about it,
and give you an answer. I must consult Ralph, who is in charge here now,
till Melville comes home."

"Nay, I would ask as a great favour that you consult no one. If, when
your brother returns, you can come to any arrangement, let me know. I
would not wish to _press_ my claim unduly. I think you have seen my
young nephew, Gilbert Arundel; he got a pitiable hold over your brother.
It is not the best taste to abuse one's own relations, so I will forbear
giving you Arundel's character _in extenso_; suffice it to say, he is a
hypocrite. He has been playing fast and loose ever since he was a boy,
with a fair lady much older than himself; he fancies himself in love
with her, and she is so foolish as to believe it. The ten years which
separate them in age is a trifle in his eyes. She is handsome enough,
and fascinating; knows the world and its ways, and, resents my good
sister's pious exhortations, rather laughs at them, in fact. Am I
speaking in riddles? Arundel's mother is my step-sister; my father
taking it into his head to marry for the second time, when no one
expected him to do so. But it was a lucky thing for the world at large
that he did marry, for I am the result!" The low satirical laugh had a
ring of bitterness in it, and the face that was really handsome, was
clouded by a most disagreeable expression.

It was a hard ordeal for Joyce to be thus, as it were, in the hands of
a keen-witted man of the world, who, when he had finished his own sto