“Ah,” the old man said, sadly; “that’s what I ought to have done. I ought to have gone to Frank and said, ‘This is the charge. You shall be your own judge. Can you, after this, ever be anything to me again?’ But then, Mr. Prescott, you must remember, that much as I loved Frank Maynard, and well as I believed I knew him, you knew far more of him than I did. A father can know but little of his son’s private life. His familiar friend can judge him much better than a father can. You know what each other does; there are no secrets between you. Young men know young men as they are; old men only know them as they choose to be known. You see you had the advantage of me. Knowing Frank’s inner life, you consider yourself capable of being assured he would not do this. Knowing Frank only as an old man knows a young one, I was obliged to believe the evidence was true.” “But, Captain Bradshaw, your telegram said it had been all a mistake, and yet you now say the evidence was perfectly true.” “And both statements are correct, Mr. Prescott. Mr. Walker told me my nephew had basely seduced his daughter, under promise of marriage, and he spoke truly. I, knowing that Frank knew her, of course supposed that the accusation was against him. Mr. Walker did not even know Frank was my nephew, but yet he spoke the truth. My nephew did seduce his daughter, under promise of marriage; but only last night did I find out that the nephew who did it was Fred Bingham, who, as far as Walker knew, was the only nephew I had.” “I see it all now,” Prescott said, delighted. “But do you mean to say, sir, is it possible, that Fred Bingham has all this time known the reason of Frank’s disgrace, has taken his place in your affections, and allowed him to be disgraced for his own crime?” “He has done all that, Mr. Prescott, and he is a damned scoundrel. By Gad, sir,” the old man said, furiously, “I am an old man, but if I wasn’t his uncle I’d horsewhip him in the public streets—I’d put a bullet in his body—I’d, by Gad, sir, I’d have him flayed alive.” “Indeed, he must be a great rascal, Captain Bradshaw; I never liked him; I always distrusted him, but I never gave him credit for such villainy as this.” For some time longer they talked the matter over, and Prescott soothed the old man’s self-condemnation, by assuring him that he did not see that, under the circumstances, he could have doubted Frank’s guilt. “But you ought to have seen him, sir; you ought at least to have given him an opportunity of defence.” “So I ought, Mr. Prescott; but Frank was a little—just a little—to blame, too. He knew how I loved him, and he ought to have conquered his pride, and to have insisted upon knowing precisely what he was charged with. Ah! if he had but answered my letter, and demanded an explanation, all this misery and mistake might have been avoided.” “But you seem to forget, Captain Bradshaw, that Frank did answer the letter, and that you returned it unopened, without a word of explanation.”