‘What would you have beyond my word and honour that I have not?’ exclaimed Guy.
Far be it from me to say that he doubts it,’ said Philip; and as at those words the flash of the Morville eye darted lightning, he expected that the next moment, ‘Do you?’ would be thundered forth, and he could not, with truth, answer ‘No;’ but it was one of his maxims that a man need never be forced into an open quarrel, and he tranquilly continued—‘but it is better not to depend entirely on assertion. Why do you not bring him full proofs of your good intention, and thus restore yourself to his confidence?’
‘I have said that I am bound not to mention the purpose.’
‘Unfortunate!’ said Philip; then, while Guy bit his lip till it bled, the pain really a relief, by giving some vent to his anger at the implied doubt, he went on,—‘If it is impossible to clear this up, the next advice I would give is, that you should show what your expenditure has been; lay your accounts before him, and let them justify you.’
Most people would have resented this as an impertinent proposal, were it only that doing so would have served to conceal the awkward fact that the accounts had not been kept at all. Guy had never been taught to regard exactness in this respect as a duty, had no natural taste for precision, and did not feel responsible to any person; nor if he had kept any, could he have shown them, without exposing his uncle. To refuse, would, however, be a subterfuge, and after a moment, he made an effort, and confessed he had none to show, though he knew Philip would despise him for it as a fool, and probably take it as positive evidence against him.
It would have been more bearable if Philip would but have said ‘How foolish,’ instead of drily repeating ‘Unfortunate!’
After a pause, during which Guy was not sufficiently master of himself to speak, Philip added—‘Then this matter of the thousand pounds is to be passed over? You have no explanation to offer?’
‘No:’ and again he paused. ‘When my word is not accepted, I have no more to say. But this is not the point. What I would know is, what are the calumnies that accuse me of having gamed? If you really wish to do me a service, you will give me an opportunity of answering these precious proofs.’
‘I will’ answered Philip; who could venture on doing so himself, though, for his sister’s sake, it was unsafe to trust Mr. Edmonstone, with whom what was not an absolute secret was not a secret at all. ‘My uncle knows that a thirty pound cheque of his, in your name, was paid by you to a notorious gamester.’
Guy did not shrink, as he simply answered—‘It is true.’