There was this to be said for him, that he had never known his son. The two natures were in many points absolutely unlike. Their sympathies were diverse. Alec had often abstained from expressing his true opinions, but the old man had nevertheless been quite aware that they were in many instances the antipodes of his own. Confidence between them would in any case have been difficult; and events had made it almost impossible. Alec perhaps did his father less than justice, and the old man felt bitterly that any one of Alec’s chance acquaintances knew his son better than he did himself. It was a relief to everyone when the travellers retired. Sophy, as she sought her couch, could think of no one but Margaret. ‘An iceberg! A positive iceberg!’ she exclaimed to herself, as she sat crouching over the tiny fire in her bedroom. ‘Even her brother’s trouble does not seem to move her in the least. Ah! if I had had such a brother! And Hubert--can he really love her? If it had been anyone worthy of him, anyone who could understand and return his warm affection, I should have been----’ Here Sophy’s candle suddenly went out, and her reflections ended in a sigh. Meanwhile, Alec’s naturally buoyant spirits had not failed him. As he told himself over and over again, he had acted like a fool, with a most culpable want of care, and it was only natural and fitting that he should suffer for it. As for the confinement, the cold of his cell, the mean surroundings, the distasteful food, that mattered little. The disgrace was the worst of it. ‘My poor father will feel it terribly,’ he said to himself. ‘And even if by some accident I am acquitted, will men believe me innocent? How can I hope to rise to a high place in the world’s estimation after this? Twenty years hence someone will say--There was some queer story about a will, wasn’t there? He was accused of tampering with one, and he was tried at the Old Bailey. I know that.’ This was the thought which chilled him, and nearly broke down his courage. His liberty might be regained; wealth might come in future years; but his good name, more precious than all--was not that irretrievably gone? This gloomy thought was in his mind one morning, when his cell-door suddenly opened, and his father appeared, with Margaret behind him. Alec sprang from his seat, and rushed forward with outstretched hands. ‘Father!’ he cried. But the old man had advanced a step or two, and now stood looking at his son immovably, his hands resting on the top of his stick. ‘Unhappy boy!’ Alec drew back, his eyes blazing with indignation, unable to speak. Margaret was seized with a fit of sobbing. It was the only sound in the cell. ‘And you believe that I did that?’ asked Alec at length, frowning as he spoke. The lad’s look and words almost shook the old man’s opinion. Alec seemed to be taking the part of the accuser. ‘I believe the oath of God’s minister,’ answered Mr. Lindsay. ‘Do you--dare you, deny it?’