“And so beg his favor.”

“You need beg for nothing.  Or if the marriage comes off—­”

“You have heard of the marriage, sir?”

“Yes; I have heard of the marriage.  I believe that he contemplates it.  Put your statement of what did occur, and of your motives, into the hands of the lady’s friends.  He will be sure to read it.”

“What good will that do?”

“No good, but that of making him ashamed of himself.  You have got to read the world a little more deeply than you have hitherto done.  He thinks that he is quarrelling with you about the affair in London, but it is in truth because you have declined to hear him read the sermons after having taken his money.”

“Then it is he that is the liar rather than I.”

“I, who am a moderate man, would say that neither is a liar.  You did not choose to be pumped, as you call it, and therefore spoke as you did.  According to the world’s ways that was fair enough.  He, who is sore at the little respect you have paid him, takes any ground of offence rather than that.  Being sore at heart, he believes anything.  This young Scarborough in some way gets hold of him, and makes him accept this cock-and-bull story.  If you had sat there punctual all those Sunday evenings, do you think he would have believed it then?”

“And I have got to pay such a penalty as this?” The rector could only shrug his shoulders.  He was not disposed to scold his son.  It was not the custom of the house that Harry should be scolded.  He was a fellow of his college and the heir to Buston, and was therefore considered to be out of the way of scolding.  But the rector felt that his son had made his bed and must now lie on it, and Harry was aware that this was his father’s feeling.

For two or three days he wandered about the country very down in the mouth.  The natural state of ovation in which the girls existed was in itself an injury to him.  How could he join them in their ovation, he who had suffered so much?  It seemed to be heartless that they should smile and rejoice when he,—­the head of the family, as he had been taught to consider himself,—­was being so cruelly ill-used.  For a day or two he hated Thoroughbung, though Thoroughbung was all that was kind to him.  He congratulated him with cold congratulations, and afterward kept out of his way.  “Remember, Harry, that up to Christmas you can always have one of the nags.  There’s Belladonna and Orange Peel.  I think you’d find the mare a little the faster, though perhaps the horse is the bigger jumper.”  “Oh, thank you!” said Harry, and passed on.  Now, Thoroughbung was fond of his horses, and liked to have them talked about, and he knew that Harry Annesley was treating him badly.  But he was a good-humored fellow, and he bore it without complaint.  He did not even say a cross word to Molly.  Molly, however, was not so patient.  “You might be a little more gracious when he’s doing the best he can for you.  It is not every