‘I’ve done more than that,’ Jervase went on. ‘I’ve banked twelve thousand pounds to General Boswell’s credit, so that come what may he isn’t likely to suffer. If De Blaequaire carries the case on when he comes back to England, James and me can pay him every penny of his rightful claim, and we’ll do it.’ He paused again, for his voice had once more half escaped from his control. The boy stood before him, cold and inflexible as doom. To the father’s eye he had never looked so manly and handsome as he did at this moment, and what with fatherly pride and self pity and a sense of the magnanimity of his own purposes, the emotions of John Jervase were strangely mixed. ‘There’ll be no trouble at all, Polly,’ he said, after a pause. ‘I’ve put everything straight for you. You’ve only got to run up to London to sign your papers, to have your commission, and go out like a gentleman. I’ve brought a portmanteau with me in the carriage, with everything you’ll actually need in it for a week or two, and there’s the money for you to order anything else you want. I packed the portmanteau with my own hands, Polly.’ He paused again, for in his own way he was genuinely moved: but the boy still stood there, staring out of the window, and answered never a word. ‘You’ve got to listen,’ said the elder, rising and shaking him by the shoulder. ‘You think I have acted like a scoundrel, and you’re ashamed of your old father. I dare say you’re right, my lad, but it wasn’t so much my fault as you might fancy. There was a leak between that mine of old General Airey’s and your Uncle James’s when I went into partnership with him, and, after all, we only helped Nature just a little bit, and there’s many a man walking about this minute, holding his head high, who has done more wrong than I have.’ ‘For God’s sake, don’t!’ cried Polson, breaking silence for the first time. ‘It’s bad enough as it is. Don’t make it worse by talking about it.’ ‘I won’t, Polly,’ said Jervase. ‘I’ll do anything you like if you’ll only shake hands and say as you forgive me. Now there’s two thousand pound on this here table, and there’s the letter from your agents; and you can be off to London within an hour, and have your heart’s desire. What’s the good of being stupid?’ He took a great bandana handkerchief from the tail pocket of his respectable black coat, and blew his nose resoundingly, and wiped his eyes. He was very deeply moved indeed, and Polson was profoundly sorry for him; but there was a sick whirl in the lad’s mind which robbed him of any clear power of thought and seemed indeed to deaden feeling itself. Only he knew that nothing could undo his shame. Nothing could ever make him respect himself again. Nothing could give back to him the old sense of honour, the knowledge that he came of honest folk.