“Better than I could have expected,” Fred said, cheerfully. “The old gentleman, of course, did the savage, but I was extremely penitent, and made an impression on him. Of course he gave me a long lecture upon the heinousness of the offence, but we parted pretty good friends, and I fancy it will all come right in the long run.”
“Perhaps he may seem friends, Fred, but when he dies you may find he has left every penny to Frank.”
“Perhaps so,” Fred said, in a thoughtful voice. “I dare say he would if he were to die to-morrow; but now I have once made my footing good, I think I shall be able to work myself into my old place in time. From some hints he threw out, too, I believe, he is not satisfied with Frank. He's angry, I fancy, because Frank did not marry Alice Heathcote. At any rate, there's a coolness, which makes him the less disposed to be severe with me. No, I think it will all come right in the end.”
There was a silence for a minute or two, Mr. Bingham being greatly surprised at Fred's easy escape, for he remembered how vindictive and unforgiving Captain Bradshaw had been in his wife's case. Presently Fred spoke again.
“Don't you think something could be done to stop that madman's mouth? He has done mischief enough already; but if he is to go about as he threatened, telling this story to every one, it will be a horrible nuisance.”
Mr. Bingham thought for a time, and then shook his head.
“He is very much in earnest, Fred. He meant every word he said. There is no offering him money—it would make him worse.”
Fred thought for a time.
“One could not begin by offering money; still, he's poor, and money must be an object to him. Look here, father, you must see what you can do. You go round to him in the morning, and try and talk him over. Put to him the misery he has caused me in my own family; you can pitch it in strong, you know, about the old lady. Point out that I am punished besides by losing any hope of my uncle's money. Then talk about my wife; say she's very delicate, and that if this comes to her ears, the consequence will be most serious. Ask him if he wishes to destroy the happiness of an innocent creature? Beg him to be content with punishing me, as he has already done. Then, if he gives way at all, offer him a thousand pounds—I would willingly pay that—to leave at once, and go right away, and live quietly somewhere else, where the business will not be known.”
“I am afraid, Fred, it will be of no use. He's been hit too hard.”