, in Uncle
Charles becoming Lord Whitby's land-agent and living in St. Hilda's
Terrace, Whitby.

He was a very good fellow and a thorough man of the world, and was
of great service to Barty in many ways. But, alas and alas! he was
not able to prevent or make up the disastrous quarrel that happened
between Barty and Lord Archibald, with such terrible results to my
friend--to both.

It is all difficult even to hint at--but some of it must be more
than hinted at.

Lord Archibald, like his nephew, was a very passionate admirer of
lovely woman. He had been for many years a faithful and devoted
husband to the excellent Frenchwoman who brought him wealth--and
such affection! Then a terrible temptation came in his way. He fell
in love with a very beautiful and fascinating lady, whose birth and
principles and antecedents were alike very unfortunate, and Barty
was mixed up in all this: it's the saddest thing I ever heard.

The beautiful lady conceived for Barty one of those frantic passions
that must lead to somebody's ruin; it led to his; but he was never
to blame, except for the careless indiscretion which allowed of his
being concerned in the miserable business at all, and to this
frantic passion he did not respond.

"_Spretae injuria formae._"

So at least _she_ fancied; it was not so. Barty was no laggard in
love; but he dearly loved his uncle Archie, and was loyal to him all
through.

"His honor rooted in dishonor stood,
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true."

Where he was unfaithful was to his beloved and adoring Lady
Archibald--his second mother--at miserable cost of undying remorse
to himself for ever having sunk to become Lord Archibald's confidant
and love-messenger, and bearer of nosegays and _billets doux_, and
singer of little French songs. He was only twenty, and thought of
such things as jokes; he had lived among some of the pleasantest,
best-bred, and most corrupt people in London.

The beautiful frail lady told the most infamous lies, and stuck to
them through thick and thin. The story is not new; it's as old as
the Pharaohs. And Barty and his uncle quarrelled beyond recall. The
boy was too proud even to defend himself, beyond one simple denial.

Then another thing happened. Lady Archibald died, quite suddenly, of
peritonitis--fortunately in ignorance of what was happening, and
with her husband and daughter and Barty round her bedside at the
end. She died deceived and happy.

Lord