His lordship struggled up in his seat with an oath. ‘That’s enough! You are out of my service, Peebles, from this moment--I discharge you!’ ‘I’m agreeable,’ said Peebles, with unmoved calm. ‘And without a character--mind that!’ ‘Character, is it?’ said the dour old Scot. ‘If ever I need one, I’ll gang till a God-fearing man, and no’ till your father’s son. Good-afternoon to your lordship.’ Peebles had reached the door when his lordship’s voice arrested him: ‘Stay--stay! I--ha!--I command you!’ ‘Too late!’ said Peebles coolly. ‘I’m no longer at your lordship’s orders--I’m discharged.’ ‘Nonsense!’ said Kilpatrick. ‘Why do you provoke me, Peebles? I have been a good master to you--a forbearing master. If we parted I should--I should miss you.’ ‘No doot o’ that,’ returned Peebles, smiling. ‘Dismiss me, and ye dismiss your conscience. Dismiss me, and the Deil has ye, tooth and nail.’ His lordship laughed, but with no aspect of enjoyment. ‘You’re an assuming old scoundrel, Peebles. My conscience? Gad!--my conscience, indeed!’ ‘Ay, and your conscience says, “Make amends to your own begotten son, the bairn of the puir lass who died for your sake, and who loved ye, Lord Kilpatrick.”’ The old lord’s head sank upon his breast; his eyes were dim with a sudden moisture. ‘I loved _her_, Peebles--I loved her!’ ‘And yet ye played that deil’s trick on her, with the aid o’ yon scoundrel Blake.’ ‘How could I marry one so much my inferior?’ asked Kilpatrick tremulously. ‘And yet there are moments when I think that if--if she had not--if she had had a little more patience, I might have done it. There, there,’ he continued, with his usual testiness, ‘let it sleep. Don’t talk about it. As for Desmond, I have brought him up almost like my own son and heir. He has wanted nothing--he shall never want. I shall provide for him in my will.’ ‘Grandly, no doot,’ said Peebles, with the abrupt snort which was his laugh, ‘with Mr. Conseltine at your lug, pleading for that smug-faced imp, his son.’ ‘Desmond shan’t be forgotten,’ said Kilpatrick. ‘Nothing on earth shall make me forget Desmond.’ ‘There’s just a chance,’ said Peebles, after an interval of silence, scraping at his chin--‘there’s just a chance that Desmond, when he kens ye’re his father, will refuse to tak’ a shilling o’ your money. I know the lad, for isn’t he like the child o’ my ain old age--haven’t I watched over him and seen him grow--haven’t I had daily to _lie_ to him, and tell him that he has neither father nor mother, but only a kind friend who knew them both--and haven’t I heard his voice break when he has asked of his dead mother? Man alive!’ he continued, in answer to Kilpatrick’s stricken look, ‘do your duty--acknowledge your son before the world! If anything can get ye a free pass through the gates of heaven, it will be a deed like that!’