taken it? The frauds had been committed: by whom, if not by Bryan Tredgold? A breath of suspicion was never raised against another soul. I conspire to ruin him! Judge me by my conduct after his conviction. Who provided for his wife and the child that had then come into the world? Who, on his wife's reason abandoning her, secured her an asylum in the house of a medical man of great reputation,-Dr. Gurwood's? maintained her there through a long course of years, up to her most sad ending yesterday? Who saw to the education of his son, placed him at school,—a school highly recommended and well established, -even though the boy might not have been happy there, and fled from it? He is not the only boy who has run from his school for no fault of the school's or of those placing him there. There are matters here you may reflect upon, Mr. Noel Tredgold, with as much advantage to yourself and to others as the lying tales and infamous scandals to which you have been lately giving only too willing an ear."

And Mr. Gifford paused to pass his handkerchief across his forehead, -he had grown warm and excited with talking,—and to press his hand upon his left side. Presently he resumed :

"For the concealment of names, for the mystery with which this affair has from the first been surrounded, it may have been right or wrong. But you will remember that on the spur of the moment-at a period of much distress and excitement-it is difficult to act with that calm judgment and discretion which a long lapse of years brings to the examination of a question. For my own part, I can truly say I did at the time what was judged by wiser heads than mine to be for the best. It was thought desirable to hush up as much as possible what was deemed to be a great scandal,-to disconnect the wife and child from the disgrace incurred by the husband; to save my poor cousin from being pointed at as a felon's wife; to spare you the shame in after-life of being known, or of knowing yourself, to be a felon's son. Even now I cannot see that any great error in judgment was committed; and I am much mistaken if Bryan Tredgold himself did not acquiesce to the full in the views entertained by myself and others upon the subject. He concealed his real name even from you. Did he ever reveal to you that he was your father ?"

"He did not."

"You did not make the discovery, you did not assume the name of Tredgold, until after his death ?"

"I did not," Noel said, in a low voice.

Mr. Gifford smiled triumphantly. (There was some stir in the outer office just here; but the two men were so occupied, they did not heed it.)

"It seems, then, that the worst charge against me resolves itself into this: That by my advice information was conveyed to Bryan Tredgold, then a convict at Port Arthur, under sentence of transportation for a long term of years, that his wife was dead,—had died of decline; whereas in truth she was alive-but insane. Possibly I did wrong; but at the

time this poor woman, left absolutely to my charge as her nearest relation, was believed to be in a dying state. I had medical opinions that she could not possibly survive beyond a few days. The doctors were mistaken; but Bryan Tredgold was never undeceived. It was considered to be more merciful to him to conceal the fact of his wife's existenceregard being had for her most lamentable position-than to reveal it. If wrong was done by me under these circumstances, I am sorry; but, even from the worst point of view, I cannot think my conduct is open to very severe reprobation."

Mr. Gifford stopped; he had completed his explanation. He appeared to think that it ought to have satisfied Noel, and that his visitor might now take his departure. But as men cling to their faith with a mute persistence, which no amount of argument can affect in the remotest degree, which no subtlety of criticism can shake, because it proceeds from an innate conviction, a matter of internal feeling beyond the reach of reasoning,-so Noel still hugged tight to his heart his firm belief that Bryan was innocent, that Richard Gifford was his foe. In this respect, all that could be said, however skilfully and cunningly, could work no change in him.

But he was deadly pale; his voice was strained and toneless, as he said,

"What you have told me, Mr. Gifford, may satisfy others: it can never satisfy me. I saw my father, Bryan Tredgold, on his deathbed. A little while before his death he spoke to me upon this subject, for the first and only time in his life. I, who knew him, know that he could never lie; that every word he spoke could only be the truth. He affirmed his innocence, and that he was the victim of a cruel conspiracy. You doubt me? Good God! I, who saw him die! His words are now sounding in my ears: 'I had an enemy, whom I, poor fool, deemed a friend, who plotted to destroy me; who brought this charge against me, -sustained it by truth-seeming proofs, that were so many forgeries and lies. I did not think there was so much wickedness in man.' Not all the world could make me doubt the words my father spoke to me upon his deathbed."

Mr. Gifford winced a little at the young man's passionate cry.

"I have nothing more to say, unless I may be permitted to caution you against over-indulgence in a morbid feeling of sentiment. The explanation of my share in the misfortunes of your family is, I think, complete. I have no more to say. I have told you the simple truth-” "Not all the truth," said a voice close to him. The two men turned with a start of surprise. John Moyle was standing in the doorway.

case.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE STORY OF THE PAST.

MUCH of the uneasiness and trepidation which had characterised Mr. Gifford's manner on his first encountering Noel Tredgold at the officedoor had passed away in the course of their interview. He had recovered in great part his customary self-possession as the conversation proceeded, and he began to understand that the young man was likely to prove a less alarming antagonist than he had at one time conceived would be the Once or twice he had given evidence of some excitement of feeling; but this seemed to be roused rather by his own words,-by a natural interest in the strength of his own arguments and explanatory statements, than by any apprehension that these would be unfavourably received by his visitor. It is possible that as, in the first instance, he was rather inclined to overrate the danger of the meeting, so, as time went on, he began to underrate it, and to entertain very depreciatory opinions touching Bryan Tredgold's son.

But the appearance of John Moyle effected a change.

Mr. Gifford paled, looked anxious; the pulsation in his hollow cheek beat quickly and strongly again. Once more he passed his silk handkerchief across his forehead, and pressed his hand upon his left side.

"Not all the truth," John Moyle repeated steadily.

Noel trembled with a new hope; he had been overcome, shamefully beaten; but, with this unexpected aid, might he not yet triumph? He knew nothing of what John Moyle had come to say; yet he would not, could not, doubt that this must be in Bryan's favour-must point to some weak place in Mr. Gifford's narrative.

"Why do you intrude here, Mr. Moyle?" Richard Gifford asked, with some fierceness.

"Not nearly all the truth," the old man said, not noticing the question.

"You will be careful what you say. You shall be held responsible for every word."

"Do not fear; I will be careful." And he bowed to Mr. Gifford. Then he turned to Noel. "My poor boy!" he said tenderly; "there was fraud in the office of Messrs. Fordyce and Fordyce-forgery-embezzlement call it by what law-name you will; but Bryan Tredgold had no hand in it."

Noel uttered a cry of joy.

"You dare say this?" Mr. Gifford demanded, with a gasp.

"I dare."

"The man is mad. He knows nothing of what he is talking. How should he? What can he know of this affair?"

"There was money missing-there was money taken; but not by Bryan Tredgold."

"By whom, then? Take care what you say, whom

you accuse."

"Taken-alas, that I should have to say it!-by my own brotherby William Moyle."

The old man sighed sadly, bowing his head. Mr. Gifford laughed, not pleasantly, nor naturally.

"And you will get him to avow this-to accuse himself? A probable story, indeed!"

"Yes; he will do this."

"And he is prepared to take the consequences of his confession-to surrender himself to justice, if need be? Take care, I say," Mr. Gifford cried, with a threatening, cruel light in his eyes. "Where is your brother? Let him come here; produce him. Let him repeat this clumsy, lying story, this foolish attempt to take another man's guilt upon his own shoulders. Let him come and do this, here, now, if he dare. You have found him in some drunken fit, and given to his stupid blundering speech a false, mistaken meaning. Talk to him when he is sober, and he'll tell a different tale, I warrant." He spoke with an angry insolence, which had something wild and desperate about it. "There, we've had enough of this. You might have spared yourself the trouble of coming here to repeat a drunkard's babbling."

"Whatever have

"Silence!" cried John Moyle, with some warmth. been William's faults, he is going where they will be judged mercifully. He, poor soul, has but a few hours to live. I was sent to see him very early this morning. He is lying in the accident-ward of the Middlesex Hospital. He was yesterday thrown violently from a cab, and the wheel passed over his body. Of his recovery there is no hope whatever. He is sinking fast; but he is quite sensible now. I have his permission to tell the truth concerning the past-the whole truth. He is going where your vengeance, your cruelty, cannot reach him, Richard Gifford. He confesses freely that he was guilty of the crime for which Bryan Tredgold suffered punishment."

Noel advanced, and pressed the old man's hand.

Mr. Gifford turned deadly pale.

"Yet if this strange story should be true," he said faintly, "what is it to me? How could I know of your brother's guilt? How could I judge otherwise of the charge against Bryan Tredgold than by the evidence adduced at his trial? He was judged guilty by the jury: how could I think otherwise than they did ?"

"You knew that he was innocent; you knew who was really guilty It was by you the frauds were discovered; and you discovered then also the person who had committed them. But you made it the price of my brother's escape that he should join you in a conspiracy to lay the guilt at Bryan Tredgold's door. The poor wretch consented-as he would, at such a time, have consented to any thing that secured his own safety. More than this: at the time you appeared as a witness against Bryan Tredgold, you had in your possession a written confession, signed by the real thief; extorted from him as a sort of pledge of his fidelity, and part

of the condition on which his own immunity was secured. That confession you have now. It has been an instrument in your hands to wield a cruel power over my wretched brother. Yes, and over me. It has compelled me to be silent until now; to acquiesce in oppression I shudder at; to connive at your most shameful schemes."

"You admit, then, you have had a share in the wrong done to Bryan Tredgold?" Mr. Gifford said feebly, with an attempt at a sneer.

"I do; and, Heaven knows, I have paid a price for my folly and my sin." Mr. Gifford made an effort to rise; but he was weak and trembling. His voice sounded quite hollow, as he said,

"I am taken by surprise; but I have a complete answer to this charge; only"-he raised his shaking hands, and pressed them upon his forehead-" I am a little giddy just now; I am rather an invalid; and this excitement has been a little too much for me. Some other time I will see you again on this subject; and if you will listen to my explanations-"

He stopped; his lips moved as though he were still speaking, but no sound issued; his head sank upon his breast, and he fell heavily forward upon his desk. He had fainted.

His visitors summoned assistance, and left him.

From the lips of John Moyle the son of Bryan Tredgold learnt the story of the past.

There are many reasons, however, why I should elect to set forth this other than in the old man's words. Not that John Moyle was an untrue or unfair historian, however; but, for the thorough satisfying of the reader, particular points of the narrative require to be dwelt upon and elucidated; the motives influencing the several actors in the drama, including the sculptor himself, need to be investigated and accounted for; considerable annotatory matter has to be added; and it would be difficult for any one so closely concerned as was John Moyle in the events he was describing to accomplish this altogether effectively.

The story told to Noel Tredgold contained mention of an old naval officer retired to an out-of-the-way Cornish village, because living was cheap there, and he had need of all the money he could spare to educate his only son, and advance him in the world. George Tredgold, Lieutenant R.N. (he had never risen to higher rank; he had no interest, no “friends at court," and was not one of those men upon whom opportunities force themselves, as it were, and whose good luck enables them to dispense with such inestimable aids to fortune), had married, late in life, a Miss Bryan; he had given her surname by way of Christian name to his child; and had been left a widower after a very few years of wedded life. He was eager to grow rich-not for his own sake, but for his little Bryan's. He was a frank, simple, trustful gentleman, who deemed that his fellows were all as honest as himself. He was quite cut out to be a victim of the unscrupulous. He was induced to