The clock ticked, the wax candles burned, there was no cessation of the footsteps of the Squire. It seemed to the miserable culprit, who stood with hanging head, whilst the sound of each footstep trod upon his nerves, that the summons of a policeman would be more than he could bear, that he must make some desperate effort to save himself from doom. And still the footsteps paced up and down the room, and no voice broke the silence to pronounce the words of condemnation. We ascribe merciful actions to the merciful, and Mr Arundel-Mallory was not a man of mercy; the kindness and even consideration that were habitual to him proceeded rather from indifference and courtesy than from lack of relentlessness. And yet it must be recorded that in these instants, whilst he walked, the Squire found himself more oppressed than he would have thought to be; this lad, his favourite, must have been closer to his heart than he had imagined--this relic of the past, and of the son whom he had lost. He did not like to be sensible of the triumph of his butler, it seemed as if that exultation were a reflection on himself; his mind wandered also to a remembrance of the wretched boy’s poor mother, who was so much respected, and who kept her home so neat! And then he thought how in that last day of the fever, in the last words that could be distinguished from his lips, his little boy, in the wandering of his delirium, had chattered of the boy who came to play with him. It seemed, indeed, as if it were weakness not to punish, especially when the miserable wretch deserved punishment so much! But then it might be possible to inflict pain and shame enough, without that punishment of a prison, that is held to be the last disgrace. And with this thought, with a firm and steady motion, the Squire came back to his chair, and sat down there again. He felt that he must resign himself to the loss of a sum of money, but he had never been a man who valued money much. ‘Listen! _You!_’ he said, with a movement of his hand to enforce attention. ‘And do not attempt to say a single word! I am entirely satisfied that it was you who stole my money. No doubt it is spent now. I will not ask for it. I ought to send you to prison. It is my duty to do so. But I cannot forget that--that Willy cared for you.’ His voice trembled strangely, but he recovered himself; and went on in a tone that did not tremble again. ‘Do you know what I will do to you? You shall be soundly thrashed in my presence, and then turned out of my house with your shame and disgrace. I will not hide the story from the village or your mother--from this time you must find employment where you can. Get one of my whips. Stripes that he will not forget will be the best medicine that you can give to him.’