“We could not betray our friend. Oh, Charles, if he were to leave us, how could we ever stand firm against all the temptations which we should be certain to meet?”
“Who would help you to carry out your plans of usefulness?”
“Who would be our guide in our pilgrimage?”
“And it might be ruin to Mr. Ewart to be sent away. You know that he supports his aged mother. His voice is not strong enough for severe clerical duty; he might never be able to get a church.”
“I would do anything to prevent such a misfortune happening,” cried Ernest.
“Anything? Would you tell an untruth?”
“In such a case as this, I hardly think that it would be wrong?”
Charles looked very doubtfully at his brother.
“Why, consider, Charles, all the evil that might follow if my uncle knew the truth—evil to us, to all around us, to our dear friend himself. Nothing should make us swerve from strict candour where only our own interests are concerned; but when a good man may be ruined—”
Here the conversation was suddenly broken off by Mr. Hope’s turning towards them, and exclaiming, in a loud tone,—