Dawn | Page 4

morning about the money. It's true enough that I
gambled away the ten pounds at Roxham fair, instead of paying it into
the bank as you told me, but he persuaded me to it, and he was to have
shared the profits if we won. I was a blackguard, but he was a bigger
blackguard; why should I have all the blame and have that fellow
continually shoved down my throat as a saint? And so I thrashed him,
and that is all about it."
"Sir, I am sorry to contradict Philip, but indeed he is in error; the
recollection of what took place has escaped him. I could, if necessary,
bring forward evidence--Mr. Bellamy----"
"There is no need, George, for you to continue," and then, fixing his
glittering eye on Philip: "it is very melancholy for me, having only one
son, to know him to be such a brute, such a bearer of false witness,
such an impostor as you are. Do you know that I have just seen Mr.
Bellamy, the head clerk at the bank, and inquired if he knew anything
of what happened about that ten pounds, and do you know what he told
me?"
"No, I don't, and I don't want to."
"But I really must beg your attention: he told me that the day following
the fair your cousin George came to the bank with ten pounds, and told
him how you had spent the ten pounds I gave you to pay in, and that he

brought the money, his own savings, to replace what you had gambled
away; and Bellamy added that, under all the circumstances, he did not
feel justified in placing it to my credit. What have you to say to that?"
"What have I to say? I have to say that I don't believe a word of it. If
George had meant to do me a good turn he would have paid the money
in and said nothing to Bellamy about it. Why won't you trust me a little
more, father? I tell you that you are turning me into a scoundrel. I am
being twisted up into a net of lies till I am obliged to lie myself to keep
clear of ruin. I know what this sneak is at; he wants to work you into
cutting me out of the property which should be mine by right. He
knows your weaknesses----"
"My weaknesses, sir--my weaknesses!" thundered his father, striking
his gold-headed cane on to the stones; "what do you mean by that?"
"Hush, uncle, he meant nothing," broke in George.
"Meant nothing! Then for an idle speech it is one that may cost him
dear. Look you here, Philip Caresfoot, I know very well that our family
has been quite as remarkable for its vices as its virtues, but for the last
two hundred and fifty years we have been gentlemen, and you are not a
gentleman; we have not been thieves, and you have proved yourself a
thief; we have spoken the truth, and you are, what you are so fond of
calling your cousin, who is worth two of you, a liar. Now listen.
However imperious I may have grown in my old age, I can still respect
the man who thwarts me even though I hate him; but I despise the man
who deceives me, as I despise you, my dear son Philip--and I tell you
this, and I beg you to lay it to heart, that if ever again I find that you
have deceived me, by Heaven I will disinherit you in favour of--oh,
oh!" and the old man fell back against the grey wall, pressing his hands
to his breast and with the cold perspiration starting on to his pallid
countenance.
Both the lads sprang forward, but before they reached him he had
recovered himself.
"It is nothing," he said, in his ordinary gentle voice, "a trifling

indisposition. I wish you both good morning, and beg you to bear my
words in mind."
When he was fairly gone, George came up to his cousin and laid his
hand upon his arm.
"Why do you insist upon quarrelling with me, Philip? it always ends
like this, you always get the worst of it."
But Philip's only reply was to shake him roughly off, and to vanish
through the door towards the lake. George regarded his departing form
with a peculiar smile, which was rendered even more peculiar by the
distortion of his swollen features.
CHAPTER II
It is difficult to imagine any study that would prove more fascinating in
itself or more instructive in its issues, than the examination of the
leading characteristics of individual families as displayed through a
series of generations. But it is a subject that from its very nature is
more