"As you please, Aunt Margaret," said Guy. "If my word is not to be taken, I don't care in the least to be cleared by another person's." "You ought to care how your character stands in my eyes," said Mrs Waynflete. "Take back your key. I shall judge for myself." She looked keenly at the young man standing in the sunlight. It was obvious that now, at any rate, he was fully master of himself, and Mrs Waynflete had lived too much with men, and knew their ways too well, not to perceive that there was nothing in his look to substantiate the charge against him. Suddenly he looked round at her, in a curious, furtive way--a look which he withdrew at once as she met it, but which startled her. She had caught the glance of fear and suspicion. "Time will show," she said, as she left the room. "But I'll have it all made clear to me, before I trust matters in your hands." When left alone, Guy hastily locked his door again, then flung himself down on the sofa. "Oh, I am a fool, a fool!" he cried to himself. "God knows what will become of me!" He turned his face downwards with a gesture of despair. There was no one to help him, and he could not help himself. PART ONE, CHAPTER EIGHT. THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD. After a few moments Guy recalled himself from his despair, and, turning his face to the light of the open window, began, with what courage he might, to consider the situation. A shameful charge had been brought against him, and an untrue one, and yet the truth was so inexpressibly galling to him that he could hardly bring himself to contradict the falsehood. Drinking, especially in secret, was a degrading vice; but, however sinful, it was natural, being shared by thousands of poor miserable fellows. But the secret curse of Guy's life was, he thought, peculiar to himself, alien from and repugnant to happier folk. It was worse than wicked, it was abnormal. He himself would have pitied, but he would not have liked, certainly not have respected, another man who--Even to himself he would not think the fact in quotable words. That he could and did bear his hard fate in secret was all that preserved for him a shadow of self-respect.