The old man sank back again with a harsh catching of the breath, and they sat in silence gazing one at the other, as if trying to get breath for the encounter to come. Uncle Paul was the first to speak. "I'm--I'm not angry now, Trethick. I'm going to be very humble, and appeal to you." "Indeed!" said Geoffrey, over whose countenance a very stern, stubborn look began to make its way. "Yes, yes. I'm going to appeal to you. I beg your pardon, Trethick, if I have said or done any thing to hurt your feelings. I'm very, very sorry I was so cruel to the poor child last night, but it came upon me like a shock, and the disgrace seemed to madden me. I have a hot, bad temper, I know; but, poor child, I'll forgive her--forgive you both." "Thanks," said Geoffrey, mockingly; and he was about to speak, but refrained, as the old man made an effort and rose from his chair to go behind Trethick, and stand there silently for a few moments as if to master his voice before laying a hand upon the young man's shoulder. "I did wrong, Trethick, when I brought you up here--very wrong. I ought to have known better, but I did it in a mean, selfish spirit to save my own money, when I had plenty for all." "Indeed!" said Geoffrey, coldly, and a set frown came upon his brow. "Yes, it was an ill-advised step, and I am punished for it. But, Trethick, my lad, in my rough way I do love my poor, dead brother's wife and child, and, God knows, I would sooner have been a beggar than have seen this disgrace come upon them." "Mr--" "No, no, hear me out, Trethick," cried the old man, imploringly. "I don't blame you so much as I do poor Madge. She was always a foolish, light, thoughtless girl, fond of admiration; and I know she has always thrown herself in your way; but I said to myself he is too sterling and stanch a fellow to act otherwise than as we could wish." "Look here, Mr Paul," said Geoffrey, sternly. "Once for all, let me tell you that you are labouring under a mistake. Do you accuse me of this crime?" "No, no, we won't call it a crime," said the old man. "But hear me out, Trethick. I am not angry now. I want to do what is for the best. I don't ask you to humble yourself or confess." "Confess!" cried Geoffrey, scornfully. "Mr Paul, you insult me by your suspicions." "But the poor girl, Trethick. Her poor mother is heart-broken. Oh, man, man! why did you come like a curse beneath this, roof?" "Look here, Mr Paul," cried Geoffrey, whom the night's adventures and loss of sleep had made irritable, "when you can talk to me in a calm, sensible way, perhaps I can convince you that you are wronging me by your suspicions." A spasm of rage shot across the old man's face, but he seemed to make an effort, and mastered himself.