“I suppose you know me, Anthony,” said Godfrey, with a sarcastic smile; “I can’t be so changed as all that?”

“You are greatly changed.”

“For the worse, of course.  Yes, poverty soon brings a man down who has never been used to work.  It has brought me down—­down to the very dust.”

“I am sorry to hear you say so.  I thought that you were comfortably settled with the Whitmores until you could procure a tutorship.  With your education and abilities, Godfrey, you should not appear thus.”

“I left the Whitmores a long time ago.  I thought you had heard that piece of ill news, for such stories travel apace.  You must know that, as ill-luck would have it, Juliet learned from Mary all the particulars of that unfortunate business, and I, of course, had to decamp.  Since then the world has gone all wrong with me, and one misfortune has followed upon another, until I stand before you a lost and ruined man; and if you, Anthony, refuse to assist me, I must go headlong to destruction.”

In spite of all his affected boldness, it was evident that the speaker was dreadfully agitated.  His eyes were wild and bloodshot, his fine features swollen and distorted, and his face as pale as ashes.

Anthony continued to gaze upon him with eyes full of pity and astonishment, and cheeks yet paler than his own.  Could it be Algernon Hurdlestone’s son that stood before him—­that cousin whom he had sworn to love and cherish as a brother, and to help to the uttermost in time of need?  The solemn vow he had taken when a boy was the uppermost thought that moment in his mind; and his eyes slowly filled with tears as turning to Godfrey he said, “If I can help you I will do so to the utmost of my power.  Like you, however, I am a poor man, and my power is limited.”

Godfrey remained silent.

“What can have happened to agitate you thus?  What have you done that can warrant such dreadful words?  Sit down, cousin.  You look faint.  Good Heavens! how you tremble.  What can occasion this terrible distress of mind?”

“I shall be better presently.  Give me a glass of brandy, Tony, to make me speak steadily.  I never felt nervous before.”

His teeth chattered audibly and prevented him from speaking further.  Anthony gave him the stimulant he desired.  It seemed to possess some miraculous power.  Godfrey rose from his chair, and coming quite close up to his cousin, he said with apparent calmness: 

“Anthony, I have committed forgery.”

Anthony recoiled backward.  He caught the table convulsively to keep himself from falling, as he gasped out: 

“This is too dreadful!  Oh, my poor uncle!  Thank Heaven, you are spared the agony of this.  Godfrey, Godfrey, what could induce you to perpetrate such a crime?”