at raged within him. A long silence followed, during which
neither spoke a word.

At length Lord Chetwynde went on. "I left London forever," said he,
with a deep sigh.

"After that my one desire was to hide myself from the world. I wished
that if it were possible my very name might be forgotten. And so I
came back to Chetwynde, where I have lived ever since, in the utmost
seclusion, devoting myself entirely to the education and training of
my boy.

"Ah, my old friend, that boy has proved the one solace of my life.
Well has he repaid me for my care. Never was there a nobler or
a more devoted nature than his. Forgive a father's emotion, my
friend. If you but knew my noble, my brave, my chivalrous boy, you
would excuse me. That boy would lay down his life for me. In all his
life his one thought has been to spare me all trouble and to brighten
my dark life. Poor Guy! He knows nothing of the horror of shame that
hangs over him--he has found out nothing as yet. To him his mother is
a holy thought--the thought of one who died long ago, whose memory he
thinks so sacred to me that I dare not speak of her. Poor Guy! Poor
Guy!"

Lord Chetwynde again paused, overcome by deep emotion. "God only
knows," he resumed, "how I feel for him and for his future. It's a
dark future for him, my friend. For in addition to this grief which I
have told you of there is another which weighs me down. Chetwynde is
not yet redeemed. I lost my life and my chance to save the estate.
Chetwynde is overwhelmed with debt. The time is daily drawing near
when I will have to give up the inheritance which has come down
through so long a line of ancestors. All is lost. Hope itself has
departed. How can I bear to see the place pass into alien hands?"

"Pass into alien hands?" interrupted the General, in surprise. "Give
up Chetwynde? Impossible! It can not be thought of."

"Sad as it is," replied Lord Chetwynde, mournfully, "it must be so.
Sixty thousand pounds are due within two years. Unless I can raise
that amount all must go. When Guy comes of age he must break the
entail and sell the estate. It is just beginning to pay again, too,"
he added, regretfully. "When I came into it it was utterly
impoverished, and every available stick of timber had been cut down;
but my expenses have been very small, and if I have fulfilled no
other hope of my life, I have at least done something for my
ground-down tenantry; for every which I have saved, after paying
the i