on a small tray, and with this in her hand went up-stairs,
leaving Harry and the squire still at the table.

"Charlotte is a bit hurrysome this morning," he said; and Harry making
no answer, he seemed suddenly to be struck with his attitude. He looked
curiously at him a moment, and then lapsed into silence. "Harry wants
money." That was his first thought, and he began to calculate how far he
was able to meet the want. Even then, his only bitter reflection was,
that Harry should suppose it necessary to be glum about it. "A cheerful
asker is the next thing to a cheerful giver;" and to such musings he
filled his pipe, and with a shadow of offence on his large ruddy face
went into "the master's room" to smoke.

When kindly good-nature is snubbed, it feels it keenly; and there was a
mist of tears in the squire's blue eyes when Harry followed, and he
turned them on him. And it was part of his punishment, that, even in the
first flush of the pleasure of his sin, he felt all the pangs of
remorse.

"Father?"

"Well, well, Harry! I see you are wanting money again."

"It will be the last time. I am married, and am going to Italy to live."

"Eh? What?" The squire flushed hotly. His hand shook, his long clay pipe
fell to the hearthstone, and was shattered to pieces.

Then a reckless desire to have the whole wrong out urged the unhappy
son to a most cruel distinctness of detail. Without wasting a word in
explanation or excuse, he stated broadly that he had fallen in love with
the famous singer, Beatrice Lanza, and had married her. He spared
himself or his father nothing; he appeared to gather a hard courage as
he spoke of her failing health, her hatred of England, her devotion to
her own faith, and the necessity of his retirement to Italy with her. He
seemed determined to put it out of the power of any one to say worse of
him than he had already said of himself. In conclusion he added, "I have
sold my commission, and paid what I owed, and have very little money
left. Life, however, is not an expensive affair in the village to which
I am going. If you will allow me two hundred pounds a year I shall be
very grateful."

"I will not give you one penny, sir."

The words came thick and heavy, and with great difficulty; though the
wretched father had risen, and was standing by the table, leaning hard
with both hands upon it.

He would not look at his son, though the young man went on speaking. He
heard nothing that he said. In h