"Very well, then," said his friend, "you are not contending for any general principle. I don’t see why you and your family shouldn’t be prepared to agree. You may both of you be right. You don’t insist upon having the justifications you extend to Mr. Bethune extended to everyone else, or to any one else; you make him the exception; and you needn’t quarrel with those who take a more literal view of his character." "Literal?" said Vincent, with a certain coldness. "Blindness—want of consideration—want of understanding—is that to be literal? Perhaps it is. But I thought you said something just now about Mr. Bethune and a prison: will you tell me of any one action of his that would suggest imprisonment?" "Your aunt was merely talking of theories," said Musselburgh, rather uneasily, for he had not intended to use the phrase. "What I urge is this—why shouldn’t both of you admit that there may be something in the other’s view of Mr. Bethune, and agree to differ? I stand between you: I can see how much can be advanced on both sides." "And so you would patch up a truce," said Vincent. "How long would it last? Of course I do not know for what period of banishment my kind relatives stipulated; £5,000 is a considerable sum to pay; I suppose they bargained that Mr. Bethune and his granddaughter should remain away from England for some time. But not for ever? Even then, is it to be imagined that they cannot be found? Either in this country or abroad, Miss Bethune and I meet face to face again; and she becomes my wife—I hope. It is what I live for. And then? Where will your patched-up truce be then? Besides, I don’t want any sham friendships with people who have acted as they have done——" "It was in your interest, Vin," his friend again urged. "Why not give them a little of the lenient judgment you so freely extend to those others——" "To those others?" replied Vincent, firing up hotly. "To whom?" "To Mr. Bethune, then," was the pacific reply.