"He has been treated like a dog amidst you," impatiently broke in Sir Simon, drowning the more temperate words of Mr. Loftus, and turning himself about in his own fashion. "You have behaved cantankerously to him, like a cross-grained set, as you are! And now you'll have to eat humble-pie and be ashamed of yourselves. I'd not own any of you; I wouldn't." In spite of the hard words, there was a humorous sound of excuse in them; the boys detected the good-feeling, laughed, and began to cheer. Mr. Lamb put on his meekest face and drew a little away; and then called out that the college would not have known anything about Paradyne, neither have thought of being hard upon him, but for Trace. "Just so," cried Sir Simon. "Trace is——" Mr. Loftus laid his hand upon his impulsive brother-in-law, who might have been about to declare more than was necessary. It was not noticed. The excitement was rising; the hubbub was great. A hundred hands were held out to shake Paradyne's, in atonement for the past; a contrast to the scene of the previous day when the same hands were put forth to strike him. They shouted, they threw their caps in the air: they felt, and with shame, how ill they had behaved to him throughout, how mistaken they had been. George met the hands with his own ready one, with his frank and generous smile; not a bit of malice entertained he. But there was a world of pride in the self-sustained movement with which he threw back his head; in the quiet, self-reliant only words he spoke: "I always said, you know, that my father was innocent." CHAPTER XXV. Very Peacefully. He was dying very peacefully and quietly, very happily, surrounded by his friends. Sir Simon Orville went in perpetually, blustering rather at first, because Mr. Henry—as they still, from old custom, mostly called him—would not be moved to Pond Place, to be made much of for the closing period of his life, and depart out of it in luxury. "The exertion might be too great for me," he said, clasping Sir Simon's hand gratefully. He sat up in bed still; most likely would to the last. "I am better here in my own poor home, where the boys can run in and out at will. Thank you ever, Sir Simon." "But I can't make up to you for the fraud, I can't do the slightest thing towards it," remonstrated Sir Simon, who was altogether in a state of repentance for the past, and what it had brought forth—as if it had been any fault of his. "But for that miserable brother-in-law of mine, you might have been hale and healthy now, and flourishing in the world." "God knows what is best," was the cheering answer of Arthur Paradyne, the same he had made to Trace. And Sir Simon saw that it must be best: for there was a serene light of peace in the eyes, in the face altogether, that worldly honours, be they great as they will, can never bring.