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money paid to him by Fowler； and as he had never been guilty of
such an offence before； the affair would blow over after a little
storming。 But Godfrey could not bend himself to this。 He felt that
in letting Dunstan have the money； he had already been guilty of a
breach of trust hardly less culpable than that of spending the
money directly for his own behoof； and yet there was a distinction
between the two acts which made him feel that the one was so
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much more blackening than the other as to be intolerable to him。
“I don’t pretend to be a good fellow；” he said to himself； “but
I’m not a scoundrel—at least； I’ll stop short somewhere。 I’ll bear
the consequences of what I have done sooner than make believe
I’ve done what I never would have done。 I’d never have spent the
money for my own pleasure—I was tortured into it。”
Through the remainder of this day Godfrey； with only
occasional fluctuations； kept his will bent in the direction of a
complete avowal to his father； and he withheld the story of
Wildfire’s loss till the next morning； that it might serve him as an
introduction to heavier matter。 The old Squire was accustomed to
his son’s frequent absence from home； and thought neither
Dunstan’s nor Wildfire’s non…appearance a matter calling for
remark。 Godfrey said to himself again and again that if he let slip
this one opportunity of confession he might never have another；
the revelation might be made even in a more odious way than by
Dunstan’s malignity： she might come as she had threatened to do。
And then he tried to make the scene easier to himself by rehearsal：
he made up his mind how he would pass from the admission of his
weakness in letting Dunstan have the money to the fact that
Dunstan had a hold on him which he had been unable to shake off；
and how he would work up his father to expect something very
bad before he told him the fact。 The old Squire was an implacable
man： he made resolutions in violent anger； and he was not to be
moved from them after his anger had subsided—as fiery volcanic
matters cool and harden into rock。 Like many violent and
implacable men； he allowed evils to grow under favour of his own
heedlessness； till they pressed upon him with exasperating force；
and then he turned round with fierce severity and became
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unrelentingly hard。 This was his system with his tenants： he
allowed them to get into arrears； neglect their fences； reduce their
stock； sell their straw； and otherwise go the wrong way—and then；
when he became short of money in consequence of this
indulgence； he took the hardest measures and would listen to no
appeal。 Godfrey knew all this； and felt it with the greater force
because he had constantly suffered annoyance from witnessing his
father’s sudden fits of unrelentingness； for which his own habitual
irresolution deprived him of all sympathy。 （He was not critical on
the faulty indulgence which preceded these fits； that seemed to
him natural enough。） Still； there was just the chance； Godfrey
thought； that his father’s pride might see this marriage in a light
that would induce him to hush it up； rather than turn his son out
and make the family the talk of the country for ten miles round。
This was the view of the case that Godfrey managed to keep
before him pretty closely till midnight； and he went to sleep
thinking that he had done with inward debating。 But when he
awoke in the still morning darkness he found it impossible to
reawaken his evening thoughts； it was as if they had been tired out
and were not to be roused to further work。 Instead of arguments
for confession； he could now feel the presence of nothing but its
evil consequences； the old dread of disgrace came back—the old
shrinking from the thought of raising a hopeless barrier between
himself and Nancy—the old disposition to rely on chances which
might be favourable to him； and save him from betrayal。 Why；
after all； should he cut off the hope of them by his own act？ He had
seen the matter in a wrong light yesterday。 He had been in a rage
with Dunstan； and had thought of nothing but a thorough break…
up of their mutual understanding； but what it would be really
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wisest for him to do was to try and soften his father’s anger against
Dunsey； and keep things as nearly as possible in their old
condition。 If Dunsey did not come back for a few days （and
Godfrey did not know but that the rascal had enough money in his
pocket to enable him to keep away still longer）； everything might
blow over。
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Chapter 9
odfrey rose and took his own breakfast earlier than usual；
but lingered in the wainscoted parlour till his younger
G
brothers had finished their meal and gone out； awaiting
his father； who always took a walk with his managing…man before
breakfast。 Every one breakfasted at a different hour in the Red
House； and the Squire was always the latest； giving a long chance
to a rather feeble morning appetite before he tried it。 The table
had been spread with substantial eatables nearly two hours before
he presented himself—a tall； stout man of sixty； with a face in
which the knit brow and rather hard glance seemed contradicted
by the slack and feeble mouth。 His person showed marks of
habitual neglect； his dress was slovenly； and yet there was
something in the presence of the old Squire distinguishable from
that of the ordinary farmers in the parish； who were perhaps every
whit as refined as he； but； having slouched their way through life
with a consciousness of being in the vicinity of their “betters”；
wanted that self…possession and authoritativeness of voice and
carriage which belonged to a man who thought of superiors as
remote existences with whom he had personally little more to do
than with America or the stars。 The Squire had been used to
parish homage all his life； used to the presupposition that his
family； his tankards； and everything that was his； were the oldest
and best； and as he never associated with any gentry higher than
himself； his opinion was not disturbed by comparison。
He glanced at his son as he entered the room； and said； “What；
sir！ haven’t you had your breakfast yet？” but there was no
pleasant morning greeting between them； not because of any
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unfriendliness； but because the sweet flower of courtesy is not a
growth of such homes as the Red House。
“Yes； sir；” said Godfrey； “I’ve had my breakfast； but I was
waiting to speak to you。”
“Ah！ well；” said the Squire； throwing himself indifferently into
his chair； and speaking in a ponderous coughing fashion； which
was felt in Raveloe to be a sort of privilege of his rank； while he cut
a piece of beef； and held it up before the deerhound that had come
in with him。 “Ring the bell for my ale；