"Lydia," said Mr. Holdfast, "this Bible was given to me by my first wife. Two children she bore me--first, the man who has but now left my house, and will not enter it again; then a girl, who died before she could prattle. It were better that my son had so died, but it was otherwise willed. In this Bible I wrote the record of my first marriage--my own name, the maiden name of my wife, the church in which we were married, and the date. It is here; and beneath it the record of my marriage with you. Upon a separate page I wrote the date of the birth of my son Frederick; beneath it, that of my second child, Alice, dead. That page is no longer in the sacred Book. I have torn it out and destroyed it; and as from this Bible I tore the record of my son's birth, so from my life I have torn and destroyed his existence. He lives no longer for me. I have now no child; I have only you!" He paused awhile, and continued. "It is I, it seems," he said, pathetically, "who have to turn over a new leaf. With the exception of yourself--my first consideration--there is but one engrossing subject in my mind; the honour of my name. I must watch carefully that it is not dragged in the mud. From such a man as my son has grown into--heaven knows by what means, for neither from myself nor from his mother can he have inherited his base qualities--I am not safe for a moment. Between to-day and the past, let there be a door fast closed, which neither you nor I will ever attempt to open."
Then this man, whose nature must have been very noble, kissed his young wife, and asked that she would not disturb him for the remainder of the day. "Only one person," he said, "is to be admitted to see me--my lawyer." In the course of the afternoon that gentleman presented himself, and did not leave until late in the night. His business is explained by the date of a codicil to Mr. Holdfast's will, whereby the son is disinherited, and Mr. Holdfast's entire fortune--amounting to not less than one hundred thousand pounds--is left unreservedly to his wife.
To avoid the tittle-tattle of the world, and the scandal which any open admission of social disturbances would be sure to give rise to, Mr. Holdfast insisted that his wife should mingle freely in the gaieties of society. She would have preferred to have devoted herself to her husband, and to have endeavoured, by wifely care and affection, to soften the blow which had fallen upon him. But he would not allow her to sacrifice herself. "My best happiness," he said, "is to know that you are enjoying yourself." Therefore she went more frequently into society, and fêted its members in her own house with princely liberality. When people asked after Mr. Holdfast's son, the answer--dictated by the father himself--was that he had gone abroad on a tour. It appeared, indeed, that the compact between father and son was that the young man should leave England. In this respect he kept his word. He went to America, and his father soon received news of him. His career in the States was disgraceful and dissipated; he seemed to have lost all control over himself, and his only desire appeared to be to vex his father's heart, and dishonour his father's name. Events so shaped themselves that the father's presence was necessary in America to personally explain to the heads of firms with whom he had for years transacted an extensive business, the character of the son who, by misrepresentations, was compromising his credit. When he communicated to his wife his intention of leaving her for a short time, she begged him not to go, or, if it were imperative that the journey should be undertaken, to allow her to accompany him. To this request he would not consent; he would not subject her to the discomfort of the voyage; and he pointed out to her that her presence might be a hindrance instead of a help to him.