fore his nephew at first could ask no question, but as the
gig turned the corner out of the station-house yard he demanded the
news.

"What have you heard?" he said.

But even then the squire did not answer at once. He shook his head,
and turned away his face, as though he did not choose to be
interrogated.

"Have you seen him, sir?" asked Bernard.

"No, he has not dared to see me."

"Then it is true?"

"True?--yes, it is all true. Why did you bring the scoundrel here? It
has been your fault."

"No, sir; I must contradict that. I did not know him for a
scoundrel."

"But it was your duty to have known him before you brought him here
among them. Poor girl! how is she to be told?"

"Then she does not know it?"

"I fear not. Have you seen them?"

"I saw them yesterday, and she did not know it then; she may have
heard it to-day."

"I don't think so. I believe he has been too great a coward to write
to her. A coward indeed! How can any man find the courage to write
such a letter as that?"

By degrees the squire told his tale. How he had gone to Lady Julia,
had made his way to London, had tracked Crosbie to his club, and had
there learned the whole truth from Crosbie's friend, Fowler Pratt, we
already know. "The coward escaped me while I was talking to the man
he sent down," said the squire. "It was a concerted plan, and I think
he was right. I should have brained him in the hall of the club."
On the following morning Pratt had called upon him at his inn with
Crosbie's apology. "His apology!" said the squire. "I have it in my
pocket. Poor reptile; wretched worm of a man! I cannot understand
it. On my honour, Bernard, I do not understand it. I think men are
changed since I knew much of them. It would have been impossible for
me to write such a letter as that." He went on telling how Pratt had
brought him this letter, and had stated that Crosbie declined an
interview. "The gentleman had the goodness to assure me that no good
could come from such a meeting. 'You mean,' I answered, 'that I
cannot touch pitch and not be defiled!' He acknowledged that the man
was pitch. Indeed, he could not say a word for his friend."

"I know Pratt. He is a gentleman. I am sure he would not excuse him."

"Excuse him! How could any one excuse him? Words could not be found
to excuse him." And then he sat silent for some half mile. "On my
honour, Bernard, I can hardly yet bring myself to believe it. It is
so new to me. It makes m