as much in the secret as yourself."

"In the secret?" says my lord. "What do you mean, Henry? I give you my
word, I am in no secret from which you are excluded."

The Master had changed countenance, and I saw he was struck in a joint
of his harness.

"How?" says Mr. Henry, turning to him with a huge appearance of
surprise. "I see you serve your masters very faithfully; but I had
thought you would have been humane enough to set your father's mind at
rest."

"What are you talking of? I refuse to have my business publicly
discussed. I order this to cease," cries the Master very foolishly and
passionately, and indeed more like a child than a man.

"So much discretion was not looked for at your hands, I can assure you,"
continued Mr. Henry. "For see what my correspondent writes"--unfolding
the paper--"'It is, of course, in the interests both of the Government
and the gentleman whom we may perhaps best continue to call Mr. Bally,
to keep this understanding secret; but it was never meant his own family
should continue to endure the suspense you paint so feelingly; and I am
pleased mine should be the hand to set these fears at rest. Mr. Bally is
as safe in Great Britain as yourself.'"

"Is this possible?" cries my lord, looking at his son, with a great deal
of wonder, and still more of suspicion in his face.

"My dear father," says the Master, already much recovered. "I am
overjoyed that this may be disclosed. My own instructions, direct from
London, bore a very contrary sense, and I was charged to keep the
indulgence secret from every one, yourself not excepted, and indeed
yourself expressly named--as I can show in black and white, unless I
have destroyed the letter. They must have changed their mind very
swiftly, for the whole matter is still quite fresh; or rather, Henry's
correspondent must have misconceived that part, as he seems to have
misconceived the rest. To tell you the truth, sir," he continued,
getting visibly more easy, "I had supposed this unexplained favour to a
rebel was the effect of some application from yourself; and the
injunction to secrecy among my family the result of a desire on your
part to conceal your kindness. Hence I was the more careful to obey
orders. It remains now to guess by what other channel indulgence can
have flowed on so notorious an offender as myself; for I do not think
your son need defend himself from what seems hinted at in Henry's
letter. I have never yet heard of a Durrisd