And as if to crown my misery Mr. Carvel rose, and bearing heavily on my shoulder led me to the stable where Harvey and one of the black grooms stood in livery to receive us.  Harvey held by the bridle a blooded bay hunter, and her like could scarce be found in the colony.  As she stood arching her neck and pawing the ground, I all confusion and shame, my grandfather said simply: 

“Richard, this is Firefly.  I have got her for you from Mr. Randolph, of Virginia, for you are now old enough to have a good mount of your own.”

All that night I lay awake, trying to sift some motive for Mr. Allen’s deceit.  For the life of me I could see no farther than a desire to keep me as his pupil, since he was well paid for his tuition.  Still, the game did not seem worth the candle.  However, he was safe in his lie.  Shrewd rogue that he was, he well knew that I would not risk the attack a disappointment might bring my grandfather.

What troubled me most of all was the fear that Grafton had reaped the advantage of the opportunity the illness gave him, and by his insidious arts had worked himself back into the good graces of his father.  You must not draw from this, my dears, that I feared for the inheritance.  Praised be God, I never thought of that!  But I came by nature to hate and to fear my uncle, as I hated and feared the devil.  I saw him with my father’s eyes, and with my mother’s, and as my grandfather had seen him in the old days when he was strong.  Instinct and reason alike made me loathe him.  As the months passed, and letters in Grafton’s scroll hand came from the Kent estate or from Annapolis, my misgivings were confirmed by odd remarks that dropped from Mr. Carvel’s lips.  At length arrived the revelation itself.

“I fear, Richard,” he had said querulously, “I fear that all these years I have done your uncle an injustice.  Dear Elizabeth was wont to plead for him before she died, but I would never listen to her.  I was hearty and strong then, and my heart was hard.  And a remembrance of many things was fresh in my mind.”  He paused for breath, as was his habit now.  And I said nothing.  “But Grafton has striven to wipe out the past.  Sickness teaches us that we must condone, and not condemn.  He has lived a reputable life, and made the most of the little start I gave him.  He has supported his Majesty and my Lord in most trying times.  And his Excellency tells me that the coming governor, Eden, will surely reward him with a seat in the Council.”

I thought of Governor Sharpe’s biting words to Grafton.  The Governor knew my uncle well, and I was sure he had never sat at his Council.

“A son is a son, Richard,” continued Mr. Carvel.  “You will one day find that out.  Your uncle has atoned.  He hath been faithful during my illness, despite my cold treatment.  And he hath convinced me that your welfare is at his heart.  I believe he is fond of you, my lad.”

No greater sign of breaking health did I need than this, that Mr. Carvel should become blind to Grafton’s hypocrisy; forget his attempts to prevent my father’s marriage, and to throw doubt upon my mother’s birth.  The agony it gave me, coming as it did on top of the cruel deception, I shall not dwell upon.  And the thought bursting within me remained unspoken.