“I could,” he said to the poor father, in whose aged eyes, turned to the earth, tears of shame were gushing, “I could have forgiven any thing but that.  You deceived me meanly and deliberately.  The character you gave with him was false.  You knew it to be so, and you were well aware that nothing but mischief and ruin could result from a connexion with him.”

“Indeed, Mr Allcraft,” replied the unhappy man, “I had great hopes of his reformation.  He had improved of late years a little, and he gave me his word that he would be steady.  If I had not thought so, I should certainly not have permitted you to receive him.  What can we do, sir?”

“Ah! what, Mr Brammel.  It is that I wish to know.  The present state of things cannot continue.  Where is he now?”

“Indeed, I do not know.  He is a bad boy to hide himself from his father.  I do not deserve it of him.  I cannot guess.”

“Are you aware, sir, that he is married?”

“They have told me something of it.  I am, in truth, glad to hear it.  It will be to his wife’s interest to lead him back to duty.”

“You have not seen her, then?”

The old man shook his head.

“Well, well, sir,” continued Allcraft, “this is not to the purpose.  We must protect ourselves.  His profligacy must be checked; at all events, we must have no connexion with it.  Hitherto we have honoured his drafts, and kept your name and his free from disgrace.  I can do so no longer.  We have paid his last cheque this very day.  To-morrow I shall advertise publicly our determination, to honour his demands no more.”

“No—­no, no, Mr Allcraft,” interposed old Brammel anxiously, taking every word for granted, “that must not be done—­I cannot allow it; for the poor boy’s sake, that determination must not be made at present.  I am sure he will reform at last.  I should not be surprised if he returned to business in a day or two, and settled steadily to work for the remainder of his life.  It is likely enough, now that he is married.  I have much to answer for on account of that youth, Mr Allcraft, and I should never forgive myself if I suffered any thing to be done that is likely to render him desperate, just when a glimmering of hope is stealing upon us.  You shake your head, sir, but I am confident he will yet make up for all his folly.”

“Heaven grant it, sir, for your sake!”

“Yes, and for his own, poor child—­for what will become of him if he does not!  Now, as to these cheques, Mr Allcraft, let me have them all.  I will restore every farthing that you have paid on his account; and should any more be presented, let them be duly honoured.  I hold myself responsible for their discharge.  I am sure this is the wisest course to pursue.  It is quite reasonable for you to demur, and to object to these demands.  I like you the better, Mr Allcraft, for your scruples:  you are an honourable man, sir.  I would lose my last drop of blood to make my poor boy like you.  It is wise and praiseworthy in you to look so carefully to the good credit of your house; and it is fair and right that I should take this matter upon myself.  I do it, persuaded of the propriety of the step, and satisfied that all will go well with him yet.  Be lenient with the unhappy boy, sir, and have yet a little patience.”