‘Thank you.  I am not confident,’ returned Mr. Crisparkle, as he sat himself down in the easy-chair placed for him, ’that my subject will at first sight be quite as welcome as myself; but I am a minister of peace, and I pursue my subject in the interests of peace.  In a word, Jasper, I want to establish peace between these two young fellows.’

A very perplexed expression took hold of Mr. Jasper’s face; a very perplexing expression too, for Mr. Crisparkle could make nothing of it.

‘How?’ was Jasper’s inquiry, in a low and slow voice, after a silence.

’For the “How” I come to you.  I want to ask you to do me the great favour and service of interposing with your nephew (I have already interposed with Mr. Neville), and getting him to write you a short note, in his lively way, saying that he is willing to shake hands.  I know what a good-natured fellow he is, and what influence you have with him.  And without in the least defending Mr. Neville, we must all admit that he was bitterly stung.’

Jasper turned that perplexed face towards the fire.  Mr. Crisparkle continuing to observe it, found it even more perplexing than before, inasmuch as it seemed to denote (which could hardly be) some close internal calculation.

‘I know that you are not prepossessed in Mr. Neville’s favour,’ the Minor Canon was going on, when Jasper stopped him: 

‘You have cause to say so.  I am not, indeed.’

’Undoubtedly; and I admit his lamentable violence of temper, though I hope he and I will get the better of it between us.  But I have exacted a very solemn promise from him as to his future demeanour towards your nephew, if you do kindly interpose; and I am sure he will keep it.’

’You are always responsible and trustworthy, Mr. Crisparkle.  Do you really feel sure that you can answer for him so confidently?’

‘I do.’

The perplexed and perplexing look vanished.

‘Then you relieve my mind of a great dread, and a heavy weight,’ said Jasper; ‘I will do it.’

Mr. Crisparkle, delighted by the swiftness and completeness of his success, acknowledged it in the handsomest terms.

‘I will do it,’ repeated Jasper, ’for the comfort of having your guarantee against my vague and unfounded fears.  You will laugh—­ but do you keep a Diary?’

‘A line for a day; not more.’

’A line for a day would be quite as much as my uneventful life would need, Heaven knows,’ said Jasper, taking a book from a desk, ’but that my Diary is, in fact, a Diary of Ned’s life too.  You will laugh at this entry; you will guess when it was made: 

’"Past midnight.—­After what I have just now seen, I have a morbid dread upon me of some horrible consequences resulting to my dear boy, that I cannot reason with or in any way contend against.  All my efforts are vain.  The demoniacal passion of this Neville Landless, his strength in his fury, and his savage rage for the destruction of its object, appal me.  So profound is the impression, that twice since I have gone into my dear boy’s room, to assure myself of his sleeping safely, and not lying dead in his blood.”