Ernest made no reply.
“We had better go on,” said Charles.
They walked on for some time in silence.
“I am afraid that I spoke rudely to you just now; will you forgive me?” said Hope, at last.
“Oh, do not talk about forgiveness,” replied Ernest, cheerfully. “I think that I could forgive you anything; and one should never take offence at a word.”
“I ought to have remembered,” observed Charles, “that the child whom we have just seen is a great expense to you; and yet you seem to spend so little, that I hardly fancied that you could have got through the allowance of a whole quarter. Do you not receive the same sum that I used to have when I imagined myself to be Lord Fontonore?”
“No,” replied his brother, and immediately changed the conversation.
They walked on for some distance, talking on other matters, when, as they were passing through one of the parks, Charles stopped, as if some thought had suddenly crossed his mind.
“Ernest,” said he, laying his hand on his brother’s arm, “just answer me one question: How is it that you do not receive the same allowance that I did?” Receiving no answer, he continued, “Is it possible that you are dividing yours with me?”