'I trust not. I would not consciously have accused you of what was quite as much my fault as yours. That would not have been fair play.' 'If I won't give it to Bill Bettesworth!' cried Tom. 'What has he done?' 'Always telling me that gentlefolks hadn't got no notion of fair play with the like of us, but held us like the dirt to be trampled on! But there--I'll let him know--' 'Who is he?' 'A young man what works with Mr. Smith,' returned Tom, his sullenness having given place to a frank, open manner, such as any one but Louis would have deemed too free and ready. 'Was he your great friend at Northwold?' 'A chap must speak to some one,' was Tom's answer. 'And what kind of a some one was he?' 'Why, he comes down Illershall way. He knows a thing or two, and can go on like an orator or a play-book--or like yourself, my Lord.' 'Thank you. I hope the thing or two were of the right sort.' Tom looked sheepish. 'I heard something about bad companions. I hope he was not one. I ought to have come and visited you, Tom; I have been very sorry I did not. You'd better let me hear all about it, for I fear there must have been worse scrapes than this of the stones.' 'Worse!' cried Tom--'sure nothing could be worserer!' 'I wish there were no evils worse than careless forgetfulness,' said Louis. 'I didn't forget!' said Tom. 'I meant to have told you whenever you came to see me, but'--his eyes filled and his voice began to alter--'you never came, and she at the Terrace wouldn't look at me! And Bill and the rest of them was always at me, asking when I expected my aristocrat, and jeering me 'cause I'd said you wasn't like the rest of 'em. So then I thought I'd have my liberty too, and show I didn't care no more than they, and spite you all.' 'How little one thinks of the grievous harm a little selfish heedlessness may do!' sighed Louis, half aloud. 'If you had only looked to something better than me, Tom! And so you ran into mischief?' Half confession, half vindication ensued, and the poor fellow's story was manifest enough. His faults had been unsteadiness and misplaced independence rather than any of the more degrading stamp of evils. The public-house had not been sought for liquor's sake, but for that of the orator who inflamed the crude imaginations and aspirations that effervesced in the youth's mind; and the rudely-exercised authority of master and foreman had only driven his fierce temper further astray. With sense of right sufficient to be dissatisfied with himself, and taste and principle just enough developed to loathe the evils round him, hardened and soured by Louis's neglect, and rendered discontented by Chartist preachers, he had come to long for any sort of change or break; and the tidings of the accident, coupled with the hard words which he knew himself to deserve but too well, had put the finishing stroke.