ad
managed to daub over and partly to hide his own settled convictions
as to his cousin's character fell away, and he saw the man as he had
seen him during his interview with Captain Stubber and Mr. Hart. It
must be so. Let the consequences be what they might, his daughter
must be told. Were she to be killed by the telling, it would be
better than that she should be handed over to such a man as this. The
misfortune which had come upon them might be the death of him and of
her;--but better that than the other. He sat in his chair till the
gong sounded through the house for prayers; then he rang his bell
and sent in word to Lady Elizabeth that she should read them in
his absence. When they were over, word was brought that he would
breakfast alone, in his own room. On receiving that message, both his
wife and daughter went to him; but as yet he could tell them nothing.
Tidings had come which would make it necessary that he should go at
once to London. As soon as breakfast should be over he would see
George Hotspur. They both knew from the tone in which the name was
pronounced that the "tidings" were of their nature bad, and that they
had reference to the sins of their guest.

"You had better read that letter," he said as soon as George was in
the room. As he spoke his face was towards the fire, and in that
position he remained. The letter had been in his hand, and he only
half turned round to give it. George read the letter slowly, and when
he had got through it, only half understanding the words, but still
knowing well the charge which it contained, stood silent, utterly
conquered. "I suppose it is true?" said Sir Harry, in a low voice,
facing his enemy.

"I did win some money," said Cousin George.

"And you cheated?"

"Oh dear no;--nothing of the sort."

But his confession was written in his face, and was heard in his
voice, and peeped out through every motion of his limbs. He was a
cur, and denied the accusation in a currish manner, hardly intended
to create belief.

"He must be paid back his money," said Sir Harry.

"I had promised that," said Cousin George.

"Has it been your practice, sir, when gambling, to pay back money
that you have won? You are a scoundrel,--a heartless scoundrel,--to
try and make your way into my house when I had made such liberal
offers to buy your absence." To this Cousin George made no sort of
answer. The game was up. And had he not already told himself that
it was a game that he