And now the dread day of account had come, and he sat overwhelmed, crushed, unable to fly, afraid to go home, yet fitfully and by turns impelled to each course. It was while he sat there, by turns stupified and distracted, that the door was opened by a waiter, who announced— “Judge Sutherland!” And retired, as Mark walked in. Clement Sutherland started to his feet, pale and wild-looking, and gazed, without speaking, at his nephew. “Sir, you are ill!” exclaimed the latter, anxiously, stepping up to him. Muttering some inaudible words between his white lips, the old man sunk down, collapsed, into his chair. Mark hastily stepped to the bell-rope, to ring for wine. But the guilty man, in the confusion of his trouble, misunderstood the intention, and stretching out his trembling, almost palsied arm, bade him “Stop, for Christ’s sake!” Mark returned, with looks of interest. “I did not mean to—to _wrong_ her! God knows I did not!” said the old man, in a quivering tone. “Wrong whom?” added Mark, regarding him with much surprise and anxiety; “sir, sir, you are really ill, and I must summon some assistance.” “No, no! you are mistaken. Bring no witnesses. It is—it is—a family affair. Now, I suppose, you will have your revenge!” exclaimed Clement Sutherland, with a frightened, chattering smile. Without more ado, Mark hastened to the door, with the purpose of sending for a physician. But the old man sprang, tottered after him, and clasped him around, staggered back, exclaiming—“You shall not! I’ll have no witnesses. Oh! you’re a lawyer!” Mark Sutherland disengaged himself, sat his uncle down in a chair, and stood for a moment undecided how to proceed—vague suspicions crossing his mind for the first time, as he heard his wild words, and recollected Mr. Bolling’s ominous doubts. “Yes, look!” exclaimed the distracted culprit, who had quite lost his self-possession, “look! and consider what you will do! It will be a fine revenge, for old and new, to cast the white-haired man into a State-prison, won’t it? Now, hark ye! No dishonour can crush me that will not touch you! Remember that!” Mark Sutherland went to a sideboard, poured out a glass of water, and brought it to his uncle, who took it in his trembling hand and quaffed it off, and returned the empty glass, all mechanically, and without a word of acknowledgment. Mark Sutherland put down the glass, and then returned and took his seat beside the guilty man, saying calmly, and with some reserve— “Now, sir, it were best for all parties concerned, that you should put me in possession of the facts of this case.” “And criminate myself! Ha! that’s a lawyer’s trick, to lead me into such a folly. But I’m cool, I’m collected, I’m not going to do it.” “Sir, you have already criminated yourself.” “Ha! you wish to trap me into doing so, so that you can take your revenge. It would be a tremendous revenge, would it not?”