Could you show your face among
your own friends if this were known?"

I knew very well I could not. My father a fraudulent steward of Julia's
property! Then farewell forever to all that had made my life happy! We
were a proud family--proud of our rank, and of our pure blood; above
all, of our honor, which had never been tarnished by a breath. I could
not yet bear to believe that my father was a rogue. He himself was not
so lost to shame that he could meet my eye. I saw there was no escape
from it--I must marry Julia.

"Well," I said, at last, "as you say, the matter is in my hands now; and
I must make the best of it. Good-night, sir."

Without a light I went up to my own room, where the moon that had shone
upon me in my last night's ride, was gleaming brightly through the
window. I intended to reflect and deliberate, but I was worn out. I
flung myself down on the bed, but could not have remained awake for a
single moment. I fell into a deep sleep which lasted till morning.

CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH.

TWO LETTERS.

When I awoke, my poor mother was sitting beside me, looking very ill and
sorrowful. She had slipped a pillow under my head, and thrown a shawl
across me. I got up with a bewildered brain, and a general sense of
calamity, which I could not clearly define.

"Martin," she said, "your father has gone by this morning's boat to
Jersey. He says you know why; but he has left this note for you. Why
have you not been in bed last night?"

"Never mind, mother," I answered, as I tore open the note, which was
carefully sealed with my father's private seal. He had written it
immediately after I left him.

"11.30 P.M.

"MY SON: To-morrow morning, I shall run over to Jersey for a
few days until this sad business of yours is settled. I cannot
bear to meet your changed face. You make no allowances for
your father. Half my expenses have been incurred in educating
you; you ought to consider this, and that you owe more to me,
as your father, than to any one else. But in these days
parents receive little honor from their children. When all is
settled, write to me at Prince's Hotel. It rests upon you
whether I ever see Guernsey again. Your wretched father,

"RICHARD DOBREE."

"Can I see it?" asked my mother, holding out her hand.

"No, never mind seeing it," I answered, "it is about Julia, you know. It
would only trouble you."

"Captain Carey's man brou