‘There is your hundred pounds, Mr. Mansfield,’ he said, ‘and since you have taught the little world of Hazlehurst to consider my wife an orphan, the less you show yourself here the better for all of us. Villages are given to scandal. If you were to be seen at this house, people would want to know who you are and all about you.’ ‘I told you I should start for Paris to-morrow night,’ answered Desrolles, strapping his pocket-book, which was now distended to its uttermost with notes and gold. ‘I shan’t change my mind. I’m fond of Paris and Parisian ways, and know my way about that glorious city almost as well as you, though I never married a French wife.’ John Treverton sat silent, with his thoughtful gaze bent on the fire, apparently unconscious of the other man’s sneer. ‘Ta ta, Jack. Any message for your old friends in the Quartier Latin? No? Ah, I suppose the Squire of Hazlehurst has turned his back on the companions of Jack Chicot; just as King Harry the Fifth threw off the joyous comrades of the Prince of Wales. The desertion broke poor old Falstaff’s heart; but that’s a detail. Good night, Jack.’ Laura re-entered the room at this moment, and drew back startled at hearing her father address her husband with such friendly familiarity. ‘I have told Mr. Treverton everything, my dear,’ said Desrolles. ‘I am so glad of that,’ answered Laura, and then she laid her hand upon the old man’s shoulder, with more affection than she had ever yet shown him, and said, with grave gentleness, ‘Try to lead a good life, my dear father, and let us hear from you sometimes, and let us think of each other kindly, though Fate has separated us.’ ‘A good life,’ he muttered, turning his bloodshot eyes upon her for a moment with a look that thrilled her with a sudden horror. ‘The money should have come sooner, my girl. I’ve travelled too far on the wrong road. There, good-bye, my dear. Don’t trouble yourself about an old scapegrace like me. Jack, send me my money quarterly to that address,’--he threw down a dingy-looking card--‘and I’ll never worry you again. You can blot me out of your mind, if you like; and you need never fear that my tongue will say an evil word of you, go where I may.’ ‘I will trust you for that,’ answered John Treverton, holding out his hand. Desrolles either did not see the gesture, or did not care to take the hand. He snatched up his greasy-looking hat and hurried from the room. ‘Dearest, do you think any worse of me now you know that man is my father?’ asked Laura, when the door had closed upon Desrolles, and the bell had been rung to warn Trimmer of the guest’s departure. ‘Do I think any worse of a pearl because it comes out of an oyster?’ said her husband, smiling at her. ‘Dear love, if the parish workhouse were peopled with your relations, not one of them more reputable than Mr. Mansfield, my love and reverence for you would not be lessened by a tittle.’