By the captain and lieutenants, he was considered a smart young officer.  He was always careful to do his duty, quiet, and gentlemanly in manner, and in point of appearance, and dress, a credit to the ship.  Accordingly, all the reports that his captain had sent home of him had been favourable.

Great as was the rage and disappointment which Richard had felt, when he received the letter from his uncle telling him of the discovery of his long-lost granddaughter, he had the tact to prevent any signs of his feelings being visible, in the letter in which he replied.  The squire had told him that, although the discovery would, of course, make a considerable difference in his prospects, he should still, if the reports of his conduct continued satisfactory, feel it his duty to make a handsome provision for him.

“Thanks to my quiet life during the last ten years,” the squire had written, “I have plenty for both of you.  The estate will, of course, go to her; but, always supposing that your conduct will be satisfactory, I shall continue, during my lifetime, the allowance you at present receive, and you will find yourself set down, in my will, for the sum of twenty thousand pounds.”

Richard had replied in terms which delighted the squire.

“You see, the boy has a good heart,” he said, as he handed the letter to Mr. Wilks.  “No one could express himself better.”

His companion read the letter over in silence.

“Charmingly expressed,” he said as he returned it.  “Almost too charmingly, it seems to me.”

“Come, come, Wilks, you are prejudiced against the young fellow, for that business with Aggie and young Walsham.”

“I hope I am not prejudiced, squire,” his friend replied; “but when I know that a lad is a liar, and that he will bring false accusations to shield himself, and when I know that he was detested by all who came in contact with him—­John Petersham, the gardener, and the grooms—­I require a good deal more than a few satisfactory reports from his captain, who can know very little of his private character, and a soft-soldering letter like that, to reinstate him in my good opinion.  I will wager that, if you and I had been standing behind him when he opened your letter, you would have heard an expression of very different sentiments from those he writes you here.

“Look at this:  ’I regret, indeed, my dear uncle, that my new cousin must have such a bad opinion of me, owing to my roughness in that unfortunate affair, which I have never ceased to regret; but I hope that, when we meet, I shall be able to overcome the dislike which she must feel for me.’

“Bah!” the old soldier said scornfully.  “I would lay all my pension, to a shilling, that boy has already made up his mind that someday he will marry Aggie, and so contrive to get the estates after all.”

The squire burst into a good-humoured laugh.

“It’s well I don’t take up your wager.  Such ideas as that might occur to you and me, but hardly to a lad not yet seventeen.”