‘Not I,’ said Monks, turning away his eyes and beating his foot upon the ground, as a man who is determined to deny everything. ‘Not I.’

‘Your manner, no less than your actions, assures me that you have never forgotten it, or ceased to think of it with bitterness,’ returned Mr. Brownlow. ‘I speak of fifteen years ago, when you were not more than eleven years old, and your father but one-and-thirty — for he was, I repeat, a boy, when his father ordered him to marry. Must I go back to events which cast a shade upon the memory of your parent, or will you spare it, and disclose to me the truth?’

‘I have nothing to disclose,’ rejoined Monks. ‘You must talk on if you will.’

‘These new friends, then,’