"He will not much thank you," said Sir William Ryder--"he will not much thank you! But, nevertheless, let him come, let him come! Perhaps, after all, this is the best way we could have devised of bringing an unpleasant affair to an end."
"I trust it may prove so," answered Manners; "and that the time may speedily come when you will find it not unpleasant to unravel all the mysteries which have been crowding lately so thick upon me, that I begin to feel confused among them, and hardly know who are friends and who are enemies."
"Though I have the clew in my hands," answered Sir William, pursuing more the direction of his own thoughts than that of Manners's last observation--"though I have the clew in my own hands, there is one thing puzzles me as much as the rest seems to do you: it is that a youth so full of high and noble feelings as Edward de Vaux should be the son of such a man as his father; yet, thank God, he has many a goodly fault too, or I should begin to doubt that he were his son."
"It not unfrequently happens," rejoined Manners, "that where the heart is originally good, the errors of the fathers serve as examples or as landmarks to the children; as the masts of some wrecked vessel often serve to warn mariners of the shoal on which she perished."
"And his heart was originally good too, I do believe," answered Sir William Ryder: "I mean the father's," he added, thoughtfully. "Well, indeed, may his example serve to show to what, step by step, we may reduce ourselves, as one vice lashes on to another."
Manners smiled. "Nay, nay, Sir William," he said, "you are doing the worthy lord somewhat less than justice, I think. I never heard of his being troubled with any of what the world calls vices: pride, indeed, and wrath, and irascibility, he is not without: but, setting aside these gentlemanly peccadilloes, I never heard of any vices; and from what I have seen of him, I should say that, whatever he may have been in the days past, he has now sunk down into a very disagreeable old gentleman--that is all."
"That is all!" cried Sir William Ryder, starting up, and laying his hand upon Manners's arm, while he fixed his eyes intently upon him--"that is all!" but suddenly breaking off, he resumed a calmer look and tone, and added, "But we have not time, to-night, to discuss characters. I am but keeping you from your rest."
Manners did not endeavour to carry on the conversation; for, in all such matters, it was his rule to let people go on just as far as they liked, but to press them no further; and although he certainly was not without some feeling of curiosity in regard to the connection between Sir William Ryder and the father of his friend De Vaux, yet he well knew that the only way to come honestly at a secret is to be totally careless about it. The bell was now rung, and Manners was conducted to a room which the servant who had given him admission, and who was an old acquaintance, had with laudable foresight prepared for his use, looking upon it as certain that a visiter who arrived at twelve o'clock at night was not likely to depart before the next morning.
Everything had been carefully provided that he could want or desire; and Colonel Manners, who enjoyed, perhaps more than most men, that inestimable blessing of a heart at ease in itself, lay down to rest, and was soon in a deep slumber.
His repose was not disturbed till the gray of the next morning, when he was roused with the intelligence that Captain De Vaux was awake, and would be very glad to see him. He was not long in obeying the summons; and, after a soldier's toilet hastily made, he rang for the servant, and was conducted to the apartment where his wounded friend lay.