“I ask you,” replied Sir Matthew, “to help your Godfather in his great need. To show a kindness to your father’s old friend.” “You had no kindness for him,” said Ralph. “How can you--how _dare_ you come to me. You who have desolated homes and broken hearts! Why there are few things I should like better than to see you arrested and properly punished.” Sir Matthew’s face grew whiter. “Would you betray me?” he said, “after I have trusted you?” “No,” said Ralph indignantly, “certainly not. But I will not stir a finger to help you. How can you expect me to forget the way in which you have wronged Evereld?” Sir Matthew’s keen eyes scrutinised him closely for a minute; he was puzzled to know how much Ralph had learnt of the truth. “Wronged her?” he said questioningly, “what do you mean?” “I mean that you traded on her innocence and ignorance of the world; that you tried by the most foul means to force her and frighten her into marrying Bruce Wylie. That you drove her to escape from you, and that but for the care and kindness of others she might have got into great difficulties.” A look of relief crossed Sir Matthew’s face. Ralph certainly did not know that he had speculated with Evereld’s fortune and lost almost the whole of it. “You misjudge me,” he said assuming a tone of some dignity. “I cannot explain matters to you, but I had the best intentions in desiring to see Evereld safely married to Bruce Wylie. For the rest, it is highly probable that you will have your wish. You may even see me arrested to-night in Southampton. However I shall take good care not to remain long in custody. It will be merely the change of foregoing the journey to Havre and instead taking a much less costly ticket for a journey to the undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns.” He stood up and began slowly to button his overcoat. The easy tone in which he had made the quotation, and the look of quiet determination on his set face made a very painful impression on Ralph. His anger died away. Horror and perplexity suddenly overwhelmed him. “What am I to do?” he thought desperately. “What would my father have done? If it were possible to imagine a man like Macneillie coming with such a request why I would shelter him and help him. Must I do as much for a man I loathe. It would be more just to let him be arrested? Why should I aid a guilty man to escape? It’s conniving at his wickedness. But then again it’s true that I ate his bread for years. If he should indeed take his own life I shall certainly wish I had helped him. Good Heavens! how is a fellow to see the right and wrong of such a case?” He looked round; Sir Matthew had folded his plaid about him and now moved towards the door. “Good-bye Ralph,” he said, “many thanks for your hospitality.” But Ralph though he mechanically took the proffered hand spoke no farewell, merely held the hand in his grasp while over his curiously mobile face a hundred lights and shades succeeded one another.