said Valentine.

"Yes," John answered gravely, "of course."

"Oh! what next, what next?" thought Valentine, and he spent two or three
minutes in such a tumult of keen expectation and eager excitement, that
he could hear every beat of his heart quite plainly, and then--

"It is a very great upset of all my plans," John said, still with more
gravity than usual. "I had fully intended--indeed, I had hoped, old
fellow, that you and I would be partners some day."

"Oh, John," exclaimed Valentine, a sudden revulsion of feeling almost
overcoming him now he found that his fears as to what John might be
thinking of were groundless. "Oh, John, I wish we could! It might be a
great deal better for me. And so you really did mean it? You are more
like a brother than anything else. I hate the thought of that
ill-starred house; I think I'll stop here with you."

"Nonsense," said John, just as composedly and as gravely as ever; "what
do you mean, you foolish lad?" But he appreciated the affection
Valentine had expressed for him, and kindly put his hand on his young
relative's shoulder.

Valentine had never found it so hard to understand himself as at that
moment. His course was free, Giles could not speak, and John knew
nothing; yet either the firm clasp of a man's hand on his shoulder
roused him to the fact that he cared for this man so much that he could
be happier under his orders than free and his own master, or else his
father's words gathered force by mere withdrawal of opposition.

For a moment he almost wished John did know; he wanted to be fortified
in his desire to remain with him; and yet--No! he could not tell him;
that would be taking his fate out of his own hands for ever.

"You think then I must--take it up; in short, go and live in it?" he
said at length.

"Think!" exclaimed John, with energy and vehemence; "why, who could
possibly think otherwise?"

"I've always been accustomed to go in and out amongst a posse of my own
relations."

"Your own relations must come to you then," answered John pleasantly,
"I, for one. Why, Melcombe's only fifty or sixty miles off, man!"

"It seems to me now that I'm very sorry for that poor little fellow's
death," Valentine went on.

"Nobody could have behaved better during his lifetime than you have
done," John said. "Why, Val," he exclaimed, looking down, "you astonish
me!"

Valentine was vainly struggling with tears. John went and bolted the
door; then got some wine, and