‘The address was “Francis Stebbing, Esq.,"’ said Sir Jasper meditatively, perhaps like a spider pulling his cord.  ’Francis—–­your son’s name.  Can he—–­’

‘Mr. White, I’ll thank you to take care what you say of my son!’ exclaimed Mrs. Stebbing; but there was a blank look of alarm on the father’s face.

‘Where is he?’ asked Mr. White.

’He may be able to explain’—–­courtesy and pity made the General add.

‘No, no,’ burst out the mother.  ’He knows nothing of it.  Mr. Stebbing, can’t you stand up for your own son?’

‘Perhaps,’ began the poor man, his tone faltering with a terrible anxiety, but his wife exclaimed hastily—–­

‘He never saw nor heard of it.  I put it in the fire.’

There was a general hush, broken by Mr. Stebbing saying slowly—–­

‘You—–­put—–­it—–­in—–­the—–­fire.’

’Yes; I saw those disreputable-looking boys put it into the box.  I wasn’t going to have that bold girl sending billy-doos on the sly to my son.’

‘Under these circumstances,’ drily said Sir Jasper, ’I presume that you will think it expedient to withdraw the prosecution.’

‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Mr. Stebbing, in the tone of one delivered from great alarm.  ’I will write at once to my solicitor at Avoncester.’  Then turning on his wife, ’How was it that I never heard this before, and you let me go and make a fool of myself?’

’How was I to know, Mr. Stebbing?  You started off without a word to me, and all you told me when you came back was that the young man said he had posted the letter to his sister.  I should like to know why he could not send it himself to the proper place!’

‘Well, Mrs. Stebbing,’ said her husband, ’I hope it will be a lesson to you against making free with other people’s letters.’

She tossed her head, and was about to retire, when Sir Jasper said—–­

’Before leaving us, madam, in justice to my old friend’s daughter, I should be much obliged if you would let me know your grounds for believing the letter to be what you say.’

’Why—–­why, Sir Jasper, it has been going on this year or more!  She has perfectly infatuated the poor boy.’

’I am not asking about your son’s sentiments but can you adduce any proof of their being encouraged!’

’Sir Jasper! a young man doesn’t go on in that way without encouragement.’

‘What encouragement can you prove?’

‘Didn’t I surprise a letter from her—–?’

’Well’—–­checked the tone of triumphant conviction.

’A refusal, yes, but we all know what that means, and that there must have been something to lead to it’—–­and as there was an unconvinced silence—–­’Besides—–­oh, why, every one knew of her arts.  You did, Mr. Stebbing, and of poor Frank’s infatuation.  It was the reason of her dismissal.’

‘I knew what you told me, Mrs. Stebbing,’ he answered grimly, not at all inclined to support her at this moment of anger.  ’I am sure I wish I had never listened to you.  I never saw anything amiss in the girl’s behaviour, and they are all at sixes and sevens without her at the mosaic work—–­though she is only absent from her mother’s illness at present.’