"And therefore, like some other people, you are inclined to resent it." "No, by heaven! I would resent nothing said by you to myself; but I will not sit by and hear my father ill spoken of. I will not--no; not for all the money which you could give or leave me. It seems to me that what I spend of your money is added up as a debt against my father--" "Pray don't imagine, my boy, that that is any burden to him." "It is a burden to me, and I will endure it no longer. While at school, I knew nothing of these things, and not much while I was at college. Now I do know something, and feel something. If you please, sir, I will renounce any further assistance from you whatever; and beg, in return, that you will say nothing further to me as to any quarrel there may be between you and Sir Lionel." "Quarrel!" said his uncle, getting up and standing with his back to the fire. "He has not spirit enough to quarrel with me." "Well, I have," said George, who was now walking about the room; and from the fire in his eyes, it certainly appeared that he spoke the truth in this respect. "I know the bitterness of your spirit against your brother," continued George; "but your feelings should teach you not to show it before his son." Mr. Bertram was still standing with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the mantel-piece, with his coat-tails over his arms. He said nothing further at once, but continued to fix his eyes on his nephew, who was now walking backwards and forwards from one end of the room to the other with great vehemence. "I think," at last said George, "that it will be better that I should go back to town. Good-night, sir." "You are an ass," said his uncle. "Very likely," said George. "But asses will kick sometimes." "And bray too," said his uncle. There was a certain spirit about them both which made it difficult for either altogether to get the better of the other. "That I may bray no more in your hearing, I will wish you good-night." And again he held out his hand to the old man. His uncle took hold of his hand, but he did not go through the process of shaking it, nor did he at once let it go again. He held it there for a time, looking stedfastly into his nephew's face, and then he dropped it. "You had better sit down and drink your wine," he said at last. "I had rather return to town," said George, stoutly. "And I had rather you stayed here," said his uncle, in a tone of voice that for him was good-humoured. "Come, you need not be in a pet, like a child. Stay where you are now, and if you don't like to come again, why you can stay away." As this was said in the manner of a request, George did again sit down. "It will be foolish to make a fuss about it," said he to himself; "and what he says is true. I need not come again, and I will not." So he sat down and again sipped his wine. "So you saw Caroline at Jerusalem?" said the old man, after a pause of about twenty minutes. "Yes, I met her with Miss Baker. But who told you?"