“I altered my mind, but not altogether. I resolved not a fraction of his income should be used in the service of me or mine, and reduced the expenses of my household accordingly. Hilo, my real son, left to his own guidance at home, had become a ruinous spendthrift, and openly revolted at any curtailment of what he considered his rights. But against his wickedness I had, as a set off, the patience and affection of the supposititious son; the very qualities I had before despised now touched me most—his mildness of face and speech, and trustfulness in my protection—for the whole past seemed wiped out of his remembrance, and but a single word was capable of recalling any portion of it—the word the Constable of Castile spoke yesterday at table. Perhaps the cries and sounds of battle might recall my shame and his sorrow, but my care has hitherto proved successful in keeping such from his ears.” “Yet there seems to me in all this, Don Augustino, no good reason for your becoming the boy’s jailor,” said Sir Pedro. “Stay. If it was hard to resolve on publishing my infamy with my own mouth, was it easy to bear the thought that some day it must be realised in the growing likeness of my prisoner to his true father, Ladron? I watched this fast maturing resemblance with the anguish of one seeing his death warrant signed, understanding to the full how the crime which my voluntary confession might have softened in the eyes of the world, would grow in odium as time elapsed. I fancied it was only needful for you, or any one familiar with the father’s face, to catch a glimpse of the son’s to detect my secret; and I kept the sole evidence near my person, not because it was the safest, but the least harassing course it was possible to pursue.” “The least harassing, Don Augustino,” the knight said, “would have been to acknowledge your criminality at first, and have made restitution openly as you did in private. Better do so now than never.” “What! when the son of a felon in yonder ship must be disowned only to substitute a felon himself! No, sir; the most I can do is what I now purpose—to find this reckless youth and turn him from his vicious life by every means but that you propose. Only in the last extremity will I show him to be as penniless in the future as now, and that the girl he has exhausted his vileness to dishonor is his sister, and I the wretched father of both.” “And only in such extremity will your words have weight with Hilo de Ladron, as I suppose, for your sake, he must yet be called, although I grudge him the name. But it seems to me, Don Augustino Inique, you prate more of dishonor than a man should who has committed felony to his own conscience and in God’s sight; and that the honor you esteem so highly is nothing better than the declamation of those who surround you.”