o defy Dunstan and
anticipate all possible betrayals, than the miseries he must bring on
himself by such a step seemed more unendurable to him than the present
evil. The results of confession were not contingent, they were
certain; whereas betrayal was not certain. From the near vision of that
certainty he fell back on suspense and vacillation with a sense of
repose. The disinherited son of a small squire, equally disinclined to
dig and to beg, was almost as helpless as an uprooted tree, which, by
the favour of earth and sky, has grown to a handsome bulk on the spot
where it first shot upward. Perhaps it would have been possible to
think of digging with some cheerfulness if Nancy Lammeter were to be
won on those terms; but, since he must irrevocably lose _her_ as well
as the inheritance, and must break every tie but the one that degraded
him and left him without motive for trying to recover his better self,
he could imagine no future for himself on the other side of confession
but that of "'listing for a soldier"--the most desperate step, short of
suicide, in the eyes of respectable families. No! he would rather
trust to casualties than to his own resolve--rather go on sitting at
the feast, and sipping the wine he loved, though with the sword hanging
over him and terror in his heart, than rush away into the cold darkness
where there was no pleasure left. The utmost concession to Dunstan
about the horse began to seem easy, compared with the fulfilment of his
own threat. But his pride would not let him recommence the
conversation otherwise than by continuing the quarrel. Dunstan was
waiting for this, and took his ale in shorter draughts than usual.

"It's just like you," Godfrey burst out, in a bitter tone, "to talk
about my selling Wildfire in that cool way--the last thing I've got to
call my own, and the best bit of horse-flesh I ever had in my life.
And if you'd got a spark of pride in you, you'd be ashamed to see the
stables emptied, and everybody sneering about it. But it's my belief
you'd sell yourself, if it was only for the pleasure of making somebody
feel he'd got a bad bargain."

"Aye, aye," said Dunstan, very placably, "you do me justice, I see.
You know I'm a jewel for 'ticing people into bargains. For which
reason I advise you to let _me_ sell Wildfire. I'd ride him to the
hunt to-morrow for you, with pleasure. I shouldn't look so handsome as
you in the saddle, but it's the horse they'll bid for, a