Before she left, the brothers received and accepted an invitation from Mr. Youle to dine with him. But for Hubert's sake, Bergan would gladly have declined it. Having once introduced his brother into pleasant society, however, he could leave him to make his own way in it,—as he was fully qualified to do.
When the door closed on the father and daughter, Hubert looked at his brother, and smiled meaningly.
"Why did you not tell me?" he asked.
"What should I tell?" rejoined Bergan, composedly.
"That your future was likely to atone so prettily and pleasantly for your past."
Bergan looked grave. "Not another word of that, Hubert, if you please. The past is not atoned for, in that sense; in another, I hope it may be. Miss Coralie is, to me, simply my kind old partner's very admirable and estimable daughter."
Hubert looked half incredulously into his eyes, but there was no resisting the strong confirmation of their quiet, steady, answering gaze.
"But, Bergan, you are a goose!" he broke out.
"At your service," was the reply, with a bow of mock courtesy.
"Pshaw! Then, if I go and trade on your capital, you will never call me to account?"