Our duty now takes us back for a brief space to some old Hampshire acquaintances of ours, whose hopes respecting the disposal of their rich kinswoman's property were so woefully disappointed. After counting upon thirty thousand pounds from his sister, it was a heavy blow to Bute Crawley to receive but five; out of which sum, when he had paid his own debts and those of Jim, his son at college, a very small fragment remained to portion off his four plain daughters. Mrs. Bute never knew, or at least never acknowledged, how far her own tyrannous behaviour had tended to ruin her husband. All that woman could do, she vowed and protested she had done. Was it her fault if she did not possess those sycophantic arts which her hypocritical nephew, Pitt Crawley, practised? She wished him all the happiness which he merited out of his ill-gotten gains. "At least the money will remain in the family," she said charitably. "Pitt will never spend it, my dear, that is quite certain; for a greater miser does not exist in England, and he is as odious, though in a different way, as his spendthrift brother, the abandoned Rawdon."

We now return to some old Hampshire acquaintances, whose hopes of inheritance were so woefully disappointed. It was a heavy blow to Bute Crawley to receive only five thousand pounds from Miss Crawley's estate. Once he had paid his own debts and Jim's, very little remained to portion off his four plain daughters. Mrs. Bute never knew, or at least never acknowledged, how far her own tyrannous behaviour had ruined her husband. She vowed that she had done all that woman could do. Was it her fault if she was not as hypocritical as her nephew, Pitt Crawley?
"At least the money will remain in the family," she said. "Pitt will never spend it, my dear; for a greater miser does not exist."
