to
her who had left him thus to solitude and shame. For deep down below his
stubborn anger it was shame that the Squire felt--shame that he should
have to shun his neighbours, lest they should ask him questions which,
for his own good name and his own pride, he must answer with a lie;
shame that he should not be master in his own house--still more, shame
that anyone should see that he was not. To be sure, he did not know that
he felt shame, being unused to introspection, having always kept it at
arm's length. For he always meditated concretely, as, for instance,
when he looked up and did not see his wife at breakfast, but saw Bester
making coffee, he thought, 'That fellow knows all about it, I shouldn't
wonder!' and he felt angry for thinking that. When he saw Mr. Barter
coming down the drive he thought, 'Confound it! I can't meet him,' and
slipped out, and felt angry that he had thus avoided him. When in the
Scotch garden he came on Jackman syringing the rose-trees, he said to
him, "Your mistress has gone to London," and abruptly turned away, angry
that he had been obliged by a mysterious impulse to tell him that:

So it was, all through that long, sad day, and the only thing that gave
him comfort was to score through, in the draft of his will, bequests to
his eldest son, and busy himself over drafting a clause to take their
place:

"Forasmuch as my eldest son, George Hubert, has by conduct unbecoming to
a gentleman and a Pendyce, proved himself unworthy of my confidence, and
forasmuch as to my regret I am unable to cut the entail of my estate, I
hereby declare that he shall in no way participate in any division of my
other property or of my personal effects, conscientiously believing that
it is my duty so to do in the interests of my family and of the country,
and I make this declaration without anger."

For, all the anger that he was balked of feeling against his wife,
because he missed her so, was added to that already felt against his
son.

By the last post came a letter from General Pendyce. He opened it with
fingers as shaky as his brother's writing.

"ARMY AND NAVY CLUB.

"DEAR HORACE,

"What the deuce and all made you send that telegram? It spoiled my
breakfast, and sent me off in a tearing hurry, to find Margery perfectly
well. If she'd been seedy or anything I should have been delighted, but
there she was, busy about her dresses and what not, and I dare say
she thought me a lunatic for coming at t