grudges. I'd rather anybody had the hundred pounds they think I am worth than that rascal. What a pity poor old Dixon could not be persuaded to give me up, and make a provision for her old age!"
"Oh, Frederick, hush! Don't talk so."
Mr. Hale came towards them, eager and trembling. He had overheard what they were saying. He took Frederick's hand in both of his:
"My boy, you must go. It is very bad—but I see you must. You have done all you could—you have been a comfort to her."
"Oh, papa, must he go?" said Margaret, pleading against her own conviction of necessity.
"I declare, I've a good mind to face it out, and stand my trial. If I could only pick up my evidence! I cannot endure the thought of being in the power of such a blackguard as Leonards. I could almost have enjoyed—in other circumstances—this stolen visit: it has had all the charm which the French-woman attributed to forbidden pleasures."
"One of the earliest things I can remember," said Margaret, "was your being in some great disgrace, Fred, for stealing apples. We had plenty of our own—trees loaded with them; but some one had told you that stolen fruit tasted sweetest, which you took au pied de la lettre, and off you went a-robbing. You have not changed your feelings much since then."
"Yes—you must go," repeated Mr. Hale, answering Margaret's question, which she had asked some time ago. His thoughts were fixed on one subject, and it was an effort to him to follow the zigzag
