“Mr. Ewart would be dismissed at once from the castle. I know that Uncle Hope would be glad of an opportunity to do this. I am certain that he dislikes our friend, and so does Aunt Matilda.” “Oh, I hope and trust that he never may know it!” exclaimed Ernest, startled at the idea of such a misfortune—one of the greatest, he felt, which could befall him, for his affection towards his tutor was deep and sincere. “I am afraid,” said Charles, still whispering, “that my uncle will hear something about the affair. He is aware that Staines was the last man to vote, and that he turned the scale against him: and Jones told us that the butcher had been seen yesterday in our park; and my uncle, who was very angry indeed, declared that he would sift the matter to the bottom.” “You make me very uneasy,” said Ernest. “What should we say if we were questioned? You know that we overheard all.” “I wish that we had been anywhere else,” cried Charles; “but I had no idea that the man had come about anything secret. What should we say if we were questioned?” “We could not betray our friend. Oh, Charles, if he were to leave us, how could we ever stand firm against all the temptations which we should be certain to meet?” “Who would help you to carry out your plans of usefulness?” “Who would be our guide in our pilgrimage?” “And it might be ruin to Mr. Ewart to be sent away. You know that he supports his aged mother. His voice is not strong enough for severe clerical duty; he might never be able to get a church.” “I would do anything to prevent such a misfortune happening,” cried Ernest. “_Anything?_ Would you tell an untruth?” “In such a case as this, I hardly think that it would be wrong?” Charles looked very doubtfully at his brother. “Why, consider, Charles, all the evil that might follow if my uncle knew the truth—evil to us, to all around us, to our dear friend himself. Nothing should make us swerve from strict candour where only our own interests are concerned; but when a good man may be ruined—” Here the conversation was suddenly broken off by Mr. Hope’s turning towards them, and exclaiming, in a loud tone,— “And there’s something which you may help me to clear up, young gentlemen. I have heard a rumour—a very strange rumour, one that it is scarcely possible to credit—that that fellow Staines was hanging about the park yesterday, and had a consultation with Mr. Ewart, who advised him to vote against me. Were you with your tutor at the time?” “We were with Mr. Ewart all the afternoon,” replied Ernest, his heart throbbing very fast. “We never left him,” added Charles, as his uncle glanced towards him. “And do you know nothing of this pretended interview, which may have been—which probably is—nothing but a malicious calumny, a fable? Was there any such conversation held in your presence?—a thing almost impossible to conceive.” “No, sir; there was none,” replied Ernest, in a low tone. “None,” repeated Charles, looking down and blushing.