‘I wish you to go to the gardener,’ he said aloud, ‘and tell him that I shall require you all the day. By the time you have spoken to him, I shall have finished the letter which you must take to Mr Lee. I wish you to leave it, and to wait for an answer, and then to call for my other letters, and come straight back to me. You will have to wait in the town for the last delivery--there are some letters that I must have to-night.’ The boy left the room, and the Squire sat down and wrote. It was a long epistle, addressed to his old friend, Mr Lee. ‘.... No, I cannot give you advice with regard to your niece and nephew,’ (with these words he concluded after he had spoken of many things), ‘and so I will not ask for your help in a similar perplexity, which has been engaging my attention of late. The boy of whom I spoke to you seems to me worthy of assistance, and I cannot forget that Willy cared for him. For the next few weeks and months I intend to watch him narrowly, and if he proves himself deserving, I will provide for him.’ With these words--that is to say with an assurance of which he was unconscious although it concerned himself--with the loss of his sister weighing on his mind, and his promise to Tina haunting him once more, Nat found his way through the brilliant August sunlight, which flashed on the river, and shone on the golden corn; and with quick footsteps, although with a mind perturbed, left river and corn-fields, and reached the town at length. ‘If he proved himself deserving,’--it was his hour of probation. Who will dare to say of himself that he is strong enough for trial? CHAPTER XX A BETRAYAL AND A FALL THE slanting light made the corn-fields into a radiance when Nat returned in the evening from the town. With the slow step of one who lingers and hesitates he went along the path which led from the station to the village. If any one had been close enough to observe his features a look of conflict would have been apparent on them--in fact the whole day had been a battle-field for a contest which was not decided even now. He did not know yet if he intended to turn towards the village, or to the path which led to the mansion of the Squire. How shall we unravel from its entanglement the confusion of thoughts out of which a purpose grows? It is impossible for us to know all Nat felt that day; we may even add that he himself did not know. But in order that we may be able to understand him in some measure we must make an effort to look down into the feelings of a boy.