"It was I who told," said Evelyn, penitently, "but not because I was angry with you, Guy."
"No, Guy, but because she was angry with me, I do believe," said the Squire, mischievously. "I said something disparaging about somebody, and she revenged herself by announcing my doom to lose the Moat. Was it not so, Evelyn?"
Miss Evelyn could not wholly deny it, and feeling unable to explain, rejoiced to be spared a reply, for the Squire rose, and putting his hand on Guy's shoulder, said,—
"Tell me, my boy, whose thought was it to identify the present owner with the house, by painting them together in that pleasant scene?"
"My mother's, sir," said Guy, promptly.
"Guy, that is only part of the truth; tell the whole," said the gentle voice of Mrs. Falconer.
"It was somehow this way, I believe," said Guy, reluctantly. "I was to paint the house by Mrs. Hazelwood's desire, and as I thought and thought over many things, I began to feel ashamed of coveting the old place after God has so decidedly given it to you, and I said to my mother that I should like to prove whether I could really and truly give up the foolish fancy of ever having it back again, and be entirely willing to see you its owner and master."
"Well, my boy."
"Then my mother said I might perhaps paint out my sin and folly, in the pleasant effort to present Mrs. Hazelwood with a likeness of the master of the Moat at a happy moment before his own door. And I do assure you, sir, that in doing it, I have lost every trace of a wish to be in that place myself. Your accident helped me more than I can tell you."
"How so, Guy?"