ense, but sufficient evidence was there to show that judgment
had become so obscured by passion that the mental power was weakened by
the moral.

"Tell me, therefore, Upton," cried he, "before we part, do you leave
this house my friend or my enemy?"

"It is as your sincere, attached friend that I now dispute with you,
inch by inch, a dangerous position, with a judgment under no influence
from passion, viewing this question by the coldest of all tests,--mere
expediency--'

"There it is," broke in Glencore; "you claim an advantage over me,
because you are devoid of feeling; but this is a case, sir, where the
sense of injury gives the instinct of reparation. Is it nothing to me,
think you, that I am content to go down dishonored to my grave, but also
to be the last of my name and station? Is it nothing that a whole line
of honorable ancestry is extinguished at once? Is it nothing that I
surrender him who formed my sole solace and companionship in life? You
talk of your calm, unbiassed mind; but I tell you, till your brain be on
fire like mine, and your heart swollen to very bursting, that you have
no right to dictate to _me!_ Besides, it is done! The blow has fallen,"
added he, with a deeper solemnity of voice. "The gulf that separates us
is already created. She and I can meet no more. But why continue this
contest? It was to aid me in directing that boy's fortunes I first
sought your advice, not to attempt to dissuade me from what I will not
be turned from."

"In what way can I serve you?" said Upton, calmly.

"Will you consent to be his guardian?"

"I will."

Glencore seized the other's hand, and pressed it to his heart, and for
some seconds he could not speak.

"This is all that I ask, Upton," said he. "It is the greatest boon
friendship could accord me. I need no more. Could you have remained here
a day or two more, we could have settled upon some plan together as to
his future life; as it is, we can arrange it by letter."

"He must leave this," said Upton, thoughtfully.

"Of course,--at once!"

"How far is Harcourt to be informed in this matter; have you spoken to
him already?"

"No; nor mean to do so. I should have from _him_ nothing but reproaches
for having betrayed the boy into false hopes of a station he was never
to fill. You must tell Harcourt. I leave it to yourself to find the
suitable moment."

"We shall need his assistance," said Upton, whose quick faculties were
already busily travelling