own convictions all the same, and I find myself called
upon to take a part."

"Good gracious--yes! and to save poor old Mr Crasweller's life from
this most inhuman law. He's just as fit to live as are you and I."

"The only question is, whether he be fit to die,--or rather to be
deposited, I mean. But I'm not going to argue the subject here. It
has been decided by the law; and that should be enough for you two,
as it is enough for me. As for Jack, I will not have him attend any
such meeting. Were he to do so, he would incur my grave
displeasure,--and consequent punishment."

"What do you mean to do to the boy?" asked Mrs Neverbend.

"If he ceases to behave to me like a son, I shall cease to treat him
like a father. If he attends this meeting he must leave my house, and
I shall see him no more."

"Leave the house!" shrieked Mrs Neverbend.

"Jack," said I, with the kindest voice which I was able to assume,
"you will pack up your portmanteau and go to New Zealand the day
after to-morrow. I have business for you to transact with Macmurdo
and Brown of some importance. I will give you the particulars when I
see you in the office."

"Of course he won't go, Mr Neverbend," cried my wife. But, though the
words were determined, there was a certain vacillation in the tone of
her voice which did not escape me.

"We shall see. If Jack intends to remain as my son, he must obey his
father. I have been kind, and perhaps too indulgent, to him. I now
require that he shall proceed to New Zealand the day after to-morrow.
The boat sails at eight. I shall be happy to go down with him and see
him on board."

Jack only shook his head,--by which I understood that he meant
rebellion. I had been a most generous father to him, and loved him as
the very apple of my eye; but I was determined that I would be stern.
"You have heard my order," I said, "and you can have to-morrow to
think about it. I advise you not to throw over, and for ever, the
affection, the fostering care, and all the comforts, pecuniary
as well as others, which you have hitherto had from an indulgent
father."

"You do not mean to say that you will disinherit the boy?" said Mrs
Neverbend.

I knew that it was utterly out of my power to do so. I could not
disinherit him. I could not even rob him of a single luxury without
an amount of suffering much greater than he would feel. Was I not
thinking of him day and night as I arranged my worldly affairs? That
moment when h