money at private play, and had contracted debts in the same manner. Those, Richard, are called _debts of honour_, and must be paid in full to your creditor, however wealthy he may be, even though your servants and tradesmen should be cheated out of their hard-earned and perhaps much-needed money altogether. I wrote a third time to our father, and still no notice was taken of my appeal. The officers to whom I owed the money lost at play began to look coldly upon me, and I was reduced to a state of desperation. Still I waited for a few days, and for a fourth time wrote to my father. It appears that he was resolved to make me feel the inconvenience of the position in which I had placed myself by my follies; and he sent me no answer. I then called at the house, and he refused to see me. This you know, Richard. What could I do? Driven mad by constant demands for money which I could not pay, and smarting under the chilling glances and taunting allusions of my brother officers, I sold my commission. You are acquainted with the rest. I came home, threw myself at my father's feet, and he spurned me away from him! Richard, was my crime so very great? and has not the unjust, the extreme severity of my father been the cause of all my afflictions?" "I dare not judge between you," said Richard mildly. "But what does common sense suggest?" demanded Eugene. "Doubtless our father knows best," returned the younger brother. "Old men are often wrong, in spite of their experience--in spite of their years," persisted Eugene. "My dear brother," said Richard, "I am afraid to exercise my judgment in a case where I stand a chance of rebelling against my father, or questioning his wisdom; and, at the same time, I am anxious to believe everything in your justification." "I knew that you would not comprehend me," exclaimed Eugene, impatiently. "It is ridiculous not to dare to have an opinion of one's own! My dear brother," he added, turning suddenly round, "you have been to Eton to little purpose: I thought that nearly as much of the world was to be seen there as at Sandhurst. I find that I was mistaken." And Eugene felt and looked annoyed at the turn which the conversation had taken. Richard was unhappy, and remained silent. In the meantime the sun had set; and the darkness was gradually becoming more intense. Suddenly Eugene grasped his brother's hand, and exclaimed, "Richard, I shall now depart!" "Impossible!" cried the warm-hearted youth: "you will not leave me thus--you will not abandon your father also, for a hasty word that he has spoken, and which he will gladly recal to-morrow? Oh! no--Eugene, you will not leave the dwelling in which you were born, and where you have passed so many happy hours! What will become of you? What do you purpose? What plan have you in view?" "I have a few guineas in my pocket," returned Eugene; "and many a princely fortune has been based upon a more slender foundation."