"Mr. Weston," he said, stretching out his hand, which George felt would be mean-spirited not to take, "that was an unpleasant affair this morning, but I didn't think you would fire up as you did; and when I let fly at you, it was only in joke."
"I must deny that it was a joke," George replied; "it was an intended insult. Probably you might not have thought it would have produced indignation in me, because you, evidently, do not understand my feelings in the matter. However, let the thing drop now. I will not retract what I said to you this morning, that you lied in forming that estimate of my character, nor do I ask you to retract your words, unless your conscience tells you that you wronged me."
"What I said was hasty, and I don't mind eating all my words," said Williams; "so, as the song says, 'Come, let us be happy together.' Will you come into the King's Head, and take a glass of wine on the strength of it?"
"No, thank you," said George; "but as it is no wish of mine to live at loggerheads with any one, here is my hand upon it."
And then they shook hands, and so the matter ended. But it ended only so far as Williams was concerned. A day or two afterwards Mr. Brunton was passing the office, and he called in to say "How d'ye do?" to Mr. Compton. In the course of conversation he asked how George was getting on, and whether he continued to give satisfaction.
"Yes," said Mr. Compton, "I have no fault to find with him; on the contrary, he is the best junior clerk I ever had, and I trust him with matters I never placed in the hands of a junior clerk before. But there was an unfortunate occurrence the other day, which I think it right to mention to you confidentially." And then Mr. Brunton heard the whole history of the theatre adventure, and its consequences in the office on the following morning. He was grieved, deeply grieved. At first he could not credit the account; but when he heard that George had himself confessed to the truth of the circumstances before Mr. Compton, and there was no longer room to doubt, a tear stood in his eye as he thought of his nephew—that noble, manly boy, whom he loved with all the affection of a father—stooping to temptation, and acting the part of a deceiver; for Mr. Brunton had spent an evening with Mrs. Weston and George, and had heard nothing of his having been to a theatre, nor did he believe Mrs. Weston was aware of it.
"What I have told you is strictly confidential," said Mr. Compton; "but as you are, as it were, the father of George Weston, I thought it only right that you should know this, in order that you may warn him, if he has got into the hands of bad companions."
George was absent from the office during the interview, and did not know until some days afterwards of his uncle's visit.
Mr. Brunton went from Falcon-court a sadder man. He was perplexed and harassed; he could not conscientiously tell Mrs. Weston, as he had received the information in confidence; he could not speak directly to George upon the subject, because he would at once have known that Mr. Compton must have given the statement to his uncle. He was obliged, therefore, to remain passive in the matter for a day or two, and resolved to spend an evening that week at Islington.
In the meantime the affair became known to Mrs. Weston, and in rather a curious manner. George had worn his best coat on the evening he went to the theatre; and one day as Mrs. Weston, according to custom, was brushing it, before putting it away in his drawers, she turned out the pockets, and, amongst other things, drew forth a well-used play-bill.