Rhoneland started up, looked suspiciously about the room, and said in a quick, husky voice: 'Did I say it was Rust? I'm sure I did _not_, Harry. Oh! no, not Rust. He's a noble, generous fellow; so frank, and free, and bold. Oh! no, _not_ Rust; he's my best friend. I wouldn't offend Rust, nor thwart him, nor cross his path, nor even look coldly on him. Oh! no, no, no! Don't speak of him. I don't like to talk of him. Let's speak of something else; of yourself, or Ned, or Kate--of Kate, my own dear little Kate. She's a noble girl, Harry, is she not? Ha! ha! _that_ she is!' and the old man laughed faintly, drew a deep sigh, and turned abruptly away. 'Harry,' said he, after a pause, 'Will you make me a promise?' 'If it is one which a man may honestly keep, I will,' replied Harson. 'When I am dead will you be a father to Kate?--love her as I have loved her--no, no that you cannot--but _love_ her you _can_, and will; and above all,' said he, sinking his voice, 'let no evil tales respecting her father be whispered in her ear; let her believe that he was all that was virtuous and good. It's an honest fraud, Harry, a deceit without sin in it, and I know you'll do it; for when I'm in my grave, her heart will be the last hold I shall have on earth. When the dead are swept from memory, too, the earth is lost to them indeed. Will you promise, Harry?' 'I will,' said Harson; 'as my own child, will I guard her from all harm.' 'That's all; and now, God bless you! I've lingered here too long. Don't forget your promise. I feel happier for it, even now.' Jacob Rhoneland, however, was not doomed to reach his home in the same frame of mind in which he then was; for he had not gone a great distance from Harson's house, when a voice whose tones sent the blood rushing to his heart, exclaimed: 'Ha, Jacob! my old friend Jacob! It makes my heart dance to see you walking so briskly, as if old age and the cares of life left no mark upon you. You're a happy man, Jacob.' Rhoneland started; for in front of him, bowing, and smirking, and rubbing his hands together, stood Michael Rust, his eyes glowing and glittering, with a glee that was perfectly startling. Rhoneland muttered something of its being a fine day, and of the pleasant weather, which had tempted him abroad, and then stopped abruptly.