“That’s true,” he answered, “that’s true!  It will bring disgrace on you and your mother.  We shall be forced to leave Guernsey, where she has lived all her life; and it will be the death of her.  Martin, you must save us all by making it up with Julia.”

“But why?” I demanded, once more.  “I must know what you mean.”

“Mean?” he said, turning upon me angrily, “you blockhead!  I mean that unless you marry Julia I shall have to give an account of her property; and I could not make all square, not if I sold every stick and stone I possess.”

I sat silent for a time, trying to take in this piece of information.  He had been Julia’s guardian ever since she was left an orphan, ten years old; but I had never known that there had not been a formal and legal settlement of her affairs when she was of age.  Our family name had no blot upon it; it was one of the most honored names in the island.  But if this came to light, then the disgrace would be dark indeed.

“Can you tell me all about it?” I asked.

My father, after making his confession, settled himself in his chair comfortably; appearing to feel that he had begun to make reparation for the wrong.  His temperament was more buoyant than mine.  Selfish natures are often buoyant.

“It would take a long time,” he said, “and it would be a deuse of a nuisance.  You make it up with Julia, and marry her, as you’re bound to do.  Of course, you will manage all her money when you are her husband, as you will be.  Now you know all.”

“But I don’t know all,” I replied; “and I insist upon doing so, before I make up my mind what to do.”

I believe he expected this opposition from me, for otherwise all he had said could have been said in my room.  But after feebly giving battle on various points, and staving off sundry inquiries, he opened a drawer in one of his cabinets, and produced a number of deeds, scrip, etc., belonging to Julia.

For two hours I was busy with his accounts.  Once or twice he tried to slink out of the room; but that I would not suffer.  At length the ornamental clock on his chimney-piece struck eleven, and he made another effort to beat a retreat.

“Do not go away till every thing is clear,” I said; “is this all?”

“All?” he repeated; “isn’t it enough?”

“Between three and four thousand pounds deficient!” I answered; “it is quite enough.”

“Enough to make me a felon,” he said, “if Julia chooses to prosecute me.”

“I think it is highly probable,” I replied; “though I know nothing of the law.”

“Then you see clearly, Martin, there is no alternative, but for you to marry her, and keep our secret.  I have reckoned upon this for years, and your mother and I have been of one mind in bringing it about.  If you marry Julia, her affairs go direct from my hands to yours, and we are all safe.  If you break with her she will leave us, and demand an account of my guardianship; and your name and mine will be branded in our own island.”