It was a fine night, the sky thick with stars, and Mr. Farebrother proposed that they should make a circuit to the old church by the London road.  The next thing he said was—­

“I thought Lydgate never went to the Green Dragon?”

“So did I,” said Fred.  “But he said that he went to see Bambridge.”

“He was not playing, then?”

Fred had not meant to tell this, but he was obliged now to say, “Yes, he was.  But I suppose it was an accidental thing.  I have never seen him there before.”

“You have been going often yourself, then, lately?”

“Oh, about five or six times.”

“I think you had some good reason for giving up the habit of going there?”

“Yes.  You know all about it,” said Fred, not liking to be catechised in this way.  “I made a clean breast to you.”

“I suppose that gives me a warrant to speak about the matter now.  It is understood between us, is it not?—­that we are on a footing of open friendship:  I have listened to you, and you will be willing to listen to me.  I may take my turn in talking a little about myself?”

“I am under the deepest obligation to you, Mr. Farebrother,” said Fred, in a state of uncomfortable surmise.

“I will not affect to deny that you are under some obligation to me.  But I am going to confess to you, Fred, that I have been tempted to reverse all that by keeping silence with you just now.  When somebody said to me, `Young Vincy has taken to being at the billiard-table every night again—­he won’t bear the curb long;’ I was tempted to do the opposite of what I am doing—­to hold my tongue and wait while you went down the ladder again, betting first and then—­”

“I have not made any bets,” said Fred, hastily.

“Glad to hear it.  But I say, my prompting was to look on and see you take the wrong turning, wear out Garth’s patience, and lose the best opportunity of your life—­the opportunity which you made some rather difficult effort to secure.  You can guess the feeling which raised that temptation in me—­I am sure you know it.  I am sure you know that the satisfaction of your affections stands in the way of mine.”

There was a pause.  Mr. Farebrother seemed to wait for a recognition of the fact; and the emotion perceptible in the tones of his fine voice gave solemnity to his words.  But no feeling could quell Fred’s alarm.

“I could not be expected to give her up,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation:  it was not a case for any pretence of generosity.

“Clearly not, when her affection met yours.  But relations of this sort, even when they are of long standing, are always liable to change.  I can easily conceive that you might act in a way to loosen the tie she feels towards you—­it must be remembered that she is only conditionally bound to you—­and that in that case, another man, who may flatter himself that he has a hold on her regard, might succeed in winning that firm place