"That matter is not settled yet. I am not quite sure whether your father would like me to tell." Gilbert said this, understanding the embarrassment of intimating to a son that his father had defrauded him of the property that was rightfully his. He thought it best to let his uncle reveal the secret himself. They drove ten miles, reaching a considerable town, boasting a large hotel. "Let us go in and have a game of billiards," suggested Jasper. "Very well, but you won't find me much of a player." "I must get father to put a billiard table in the house. I like the game, but I get no chance to practice." They adjourned to the bar-room, in which there was a solitary table. This happened to be unoccupied, and they accordingly played two games, which lasted about an hour and a half. The reader will judge that neither was very expert in the game. "Now," said Jasper, who paid for both games, despite Gilbert's remonstrances, "we will order a little lunch, and then start for home." "I don't feel hungry." "Nonsense! one can always eat. Besides, I want to patronize the hotel." "Did you have a pleasant drive?" asked James Grey, meeting them on their return. "Very pleasant," responded Gilbert. "I hope Jasper was attentive." "He could not have been more so. I am much obliged to him." "I am glad enough to have company," said Jasper, with an assumption of frank cordiality. "I don't often enjoy a drive, but I did this afternoon." "I think I shall have to invite Gilbert to stay here as our permanent guest," said Mr. Grey, pleasantly. While he spoke Gilbert could not help wondering what had come over him to make him so different from what he was in Cincinnati. There he was rough, insulting, and abusive. Now he was the model of courtesy. It was hard to believe him the same man. Gilbert was not very credulous, but he was thoroughly deceived by his altered manner. "I suppose he really believed me an impostor when we met in Cincinnati," said he to himself. "Now he begins to think that he was mistaken, and is trying to make it up to me." Nevertheless, there were one or two things which interfered with this view. Why should his uncle have schemed so eagerly to get dishonest possession of the confession unless he believed it to be genuine, and therefore dangerous? That did not seem honorable. What had happened since to change him? After reflection, this was the conclusion to which our hero came: His uncle had made up his mind that he (Gilbert) had a strong case, and meant to conciliate him in the hope of a favorable compromise. Otherwise what object could he have in treating him with so much politeness and attention?