“I certainly know nothing ill of him; but I cannot help thinking how much better it would have been, if he had squarely faced this charge, instead of leaving us to grope about among all these painful doubts.” “Dick is a proud, high-spirited fellow. He believes that his friend has no right even to suspect him of anything wrong, much less to believe him capable of doing a wilful wrong. His view of friendship is too lofty to permit him to defend himself from any charge or suspicion. He would rather suffer in his honesty, than stoop to the littleness of buying his friend with an argument.” “I can hardly comprehend such a position.” “If Dick’s friend suspects him, he is no friend. He believes in perfect confidence. If that confidence is lost or impaired, it is not for him to restore it, or to heal the breach. He will not tolerate a partial friendship.” “It is rather a sentimental idea.” “But it is the true one.” “If my friend places himself in a suspicious position, I think he is bound to explain.” “In his estimation, a friend cannot place himself in a suspicious position. Whatever attitude he may assume, his friend has no right to doubt his integrity; no more than a wife has to suspect her husband, or a husband his wife.” “Are friends always perfect? are husbands and wives?” asked Dr. Bilks, incredulously. “No; never in action, but always in purpose. They may err in judgment constantly, but never in intention. If your friend suspects you, he is not your friend. If your wife does not trust in you, you are married, but not mated. This is Dick’s view, and it is mine. If I have been mistaken in him, he is no longer my friend. I would not injure him, but he is no more to me than a neighbor and a brother man. No man is my friend in whom I cannot perfectly confide. If, with good intentions towards me, he wronged me out of all my money, and made me a knave before the world, I should still cherish him, even while I lost all respect for his judgment and discretion.” “Then you certainly have no fault to find with Mr. Birch.” “None, if he has only erred in judgment. If he has deceived me, if he has endeavored to make Mary the wife of Buckstone to prevent me from marrying her, for his own ends, he is a knave!” said Eugene, emphatically. “But it is not so, Mr. Hungerford. Mr. Birch, I am sure, had no selfish motives.” “Dick and I proposed to do the very thing which the person on the beach was doing with Buckstone.” “If it was not Mr. Birch, who was it? Who else could it have been?” asked the doctor. “I have no idea. There is not another man in the world who could by any possibility have had the slightest interest in Mary’s marriage.” “I think there is some mistake. We probably misunderstood Mr. Birch this morning. He did not mean to say he was not the person. I am entirely satisfied that he will say he was the man who accompanied Buckstone to the island. He is honest and upright, and he will not deny it.”