I stopped there for mere lack of breath, being quite overcome by my heat of passion against my uncle, but when I would have excused myself, Mr. Skene prevented me with a motion of his hand. The pleasant light in his eyes was clouded with a grave anxiety. "These be hard words, Master Denis," he said, "and I hope are justified; or rather, I hope not; else I cannot for my honour undertake this prisoner's defence. But tell me briefly upon what grounds you believe him to be so worthless of relief." This put me into an unlooked for difficulty, because I could not bring myself to tell him aught of my mother, and yet had I no other reason to give him. But he, as if perceiving he had said something to vex me, hastened to set me at my ease, and leaning forward upon his desk, said-- "You are still very young, Mr. Denis, and the young are apt to prejudge. But for the cause of your anger I may tell you frankly that I know it; and respect you both for it and also for your reticence in naming it. I have been acquainted with your uncle," he went on, speaking still in a thoughtful manner, but as if some pleasure joined with the recollection of which he was to notify me: "I have been acquainted with him above seven years now, and can lay claim to know his private mind so far as a man's friend may do. You spoke of a fault of his, when he was scarce older than yourself. Are we to send him to the block for that? It is not the charge under which he now lies, Mr. Denis, nor is it one"--he spoke this with so great an earnestness that I dropped my eyes before his--"nor is it such an impeachment as you would be willing to stand beside the block where he lay dead and say, 'I let him die because a score of years since a certain frail lady held him higher than her honour.'" "Sir," I cried out at that, "have a care! The lady was my mother." He started back as if I had shot him. "I knew not that," he said, and repeated it twice or thrice. "I had not thought it pressed so near. Forgive me; I should have guessed it from your manner, if not from his narration. But he was ever thus," he proceeded, half to himself. "It hath been so, since our acquaintance even." He stopped short, leaning back in his chair and then suddenly again forward: "If you desire it," he said, "I will go no further in this matter. He deserves no pity, but rather the last penalty of the law; and I make no question but that by our abstention, he will come into the way to receive it."