"Yes, what if he throws up all connection with Willsworthy? He is wretched there--poverty-stricken. He is unhappy in a hundred ways. Look at his face. Where is the old brightness--where the old pride? He has lost all the ancient merry Anthony, and now is a sad one. Let him come back to Hall, and leave Urith to manage with her uncle--to manage, or mismanage--as before, till all goes there to pieces. He has committed a boyish folly, and he knows it. He has thrown away gold for dross, and he has found it out. He will now be twice the Tony to you that he was. Then he was thoughtless, careless, devil-may-care; now he has learned a lesson, and learned it so sharply that he will never forget it again. He has learned what disobedience costs--what it is to go against a father--what boy's fancies are compared with matured plans in the head of a man. Give him that chance. Come, you do not know Fox as I know him. Take him into your house, and he will not be more dutiful to you than has been your own Tony. He will make you unhappy, and your Bessie wretched. I saw by Tony's face, when he came here, that he had quarrelled with his wife. He came here because his home was hateful to him--because it was unendurable to him to be there any more. We cannot retain him here. Let him go to thee, and there will be an end to Fox and his story with Bessie. Anthony will be dutiful and loving henceforth, and cling to thee, and esteem thee, as he never clung to thee and esteemed thee heretofore." Anthony was speechless. The blood rushed into his face. Everything might be as it was--or almost everything. Old Anthony Cleverdon stood irresolute. He had misgivings relative to Fox. One crafty malevolent nature mistrusts another of the same quality. His daughter's peace of mind troubled him little, but he was by no means certain that Fox, once in the house, might not presume, and that there would not be sharp contests between them. Moreover, when Fox was there, married to his daughter, his place would be assured, and the old man could not well drive him from it. There were other reasons which made the old Squire feel that, to some extent, Fox would be unassailable, and might be eminently disagreeable. The suggestion made by Julian was inviting. In the depths of his heart lurked love for his only son; his old pride in him was there, and was wounded and sore with the spectacle of the lad humbled, sinking out of men's favour, and out of his old dignity. He looked at him, and saw what an alteration had taken place in him--how oldened and worn in face he was, how shabby in his clothing.