ar or favor," I answered, "you may depend on _that_."

"The signature to the letter, Mr. Governor, is written by my father.
But the letter itself is in a different hand. Do you, by any chance,
recognize the writing?"

"I do."

"Whose writing is it?"

"Mine."

CHAPTER XLIV. THE RESURRECTION OF THE PAST.

After having identified my handwriting, I waited with some curiosity to
see whether Helena would let her anger honestly show itself, or whether
she would keep it down. She kept it down.

"Allow me to return good for evil." (The evil was uppermost,
nevertheless, when Miss Gracedieu expressed herself in these
self-denying terms.) "You are no doubt anxious to know if Philip's
father has been won over to serve your purpose. Here is Philip's own
account of it: the last of his letters that I shall trouble you to
read."

I looked it over. The memorandum follows which I made for my own use:

An eccentric philosopher is as capable as the most commonplace human
being in existence of behaving like an honorable man. Mr. Dunboyne read
the letter which bore the Minister's signature, and handed it to his
son. "Can you answer that?" was all he said. Philip's silence confessed
that he was unable to answer it--and Philip himself, I may add, rose
accordingly in my estimation. His father pointed to the writing-desk. "I
must spare my cramped hand," the philosopher resumed, "and I must answer
Mr. Gracedieu's letter. Write, and leave a place for my signature." He
began to dictate his reply. "Sir--My son Philip has seen your letter,
and has no defense to make. In this respect he has set an example of
candor which I propose to follow. There is no excuse for him. What I can
do to show that I feel for you, and agree with you, shall be done. At
the age which this young man has reached, the laws of England abolish
the authority of his father. If he is sufficiently infatuated to place
his honor and his happiness at the mercy of a lady, who has behaved
to her sister as your daughter has behaved to Miss Eunice, I warn the
married couple not to expect a farthing of my money, either during my
lifetime or after my death. Your faithful servant, DUNBOYNE, SENIOR."
Having performed his duty as secretary, Philip received his dismissal:
"You may send my reply to the post," his father said; "and you may keep
Mr. Gracedieu's letter. Morally speaking, I regard that last document
as a species of mirror, in which a young gentleman like yourself may