“I am, sir,” replied he, with a deep flush that mounted even to his forehead. “Then let me save you all further trouble on my account,” said I, calmly. “My brother's indifference to me or my fate has long since absolved me from any regret I might feel for the consequences which my actions might induce on his fortunes. His own conduct must stamp him, as mine must me. I choose to judge for myself; and not even Mr. Basset shall decide for me, although I am well aware his powers of discrimination have had the double advantage of experience on both sides of the question.” As I said this, his face became almost livid, and his white lips quivered with passion. He knew not before that I was acquainted with his history, nor that I knew of his having sold to the Government information which brought his schoolfellow and benefactor to the scaffold. “Come, come,” continued I, gaining courage, as I saw the effect my words produced, “it is not your interest to injure me, however it may be your wish. Is there no arrangement we can come to, mutually advantageous? We shall be but sorry companions. I ought to have some property under my grandfather's will.” “There is, I believe, five hundred pounds,” said Basset, with a slow distinctness, as if not rejecting the turn the conversation had taken. “Well, then, what will you take to cancel that indenture? You don't set a very high value on my services, I suppose?” “You forget, I perceive,” said he, “that I am answerable for your future appearance if called on.” “There was no bail-bond drawn out, no sum mentioned, if I mistake not, Mr. Basset.” “Very true, sir; very true; but I pledged myself to the law adviser,--my character is responsible.” “Well, well, let me have two hundred pounds; bum that cursed indenture--” “Two hundred pounds! Do you fancy, then, that you are in the possession of this legacy? Why, it never may, in all likelihood it never will, be yours; it's only payable on your attaining your majority.” “Give me one hundred pounds, then,--give me fifty; let me only be free, at liberty, and not absolutely a beggar on the streets.” Basset leaned his head on the chimney, and seemed sunk in reflection; while I, wound up to the highest pitch of excitement, trod up and down the room, pouring forth from time to time short and broken sentences, declaratory of my desire to surrender all that I might chance to inherit by every casualty in life, to my last guinea, only let there be no constraint on my actions, no attempt to control my personal liberty. “I see,” cried I, passionately,--“I see what hampers you. You fear I may compromise my family! It is my brother's fair fame you are thinking of. But away with all dread on that score. I 'll leave Ireland; I have long since determined on that.” “Indeed!” said Basset, slowly, as he turned round his head, and looked me full in the face. “Would you go to America, then?”