Even if she should not ultimately marry the Jew, it would be known that she had been engaged to a Jew,--and then it would certainly be said afterwards that the Jew had jilted her.

But even if she were to back out, it would be known that she had been engaged to a Jew - and then it would be said that the Jew had jilted her.


She was thus vacillating in her mind, not knowing whether to go on with Brehgert or to abandon him.

She was thus vacillating, not knowing whether to go on with Brehgert or to abandon him.


That evening Lady Pomona retired immediately after dinner, being "far from well." It was of course known to them all that Mr. Brehgert was her ailment. She was accompanied by her elder daughter, and Georgiana was left with her father.

That evening Lady Pomona retired immediately after dinner, being "far from well," and Sophia went with her. Georgiana was left with her father.


He sat behind his newspaper till he went to sleep, and she found herself alone and deserted in that big room.


It seemed to her that even the servants treated her with disdain.


Her own maid had already given her notice.


It was manifestly the intention of her family to ostracise her altogether.

It seemed the family intended to ostracise her altogether.


Of what service would it be to her that Lady Julia Goldsheiner should be received everywhere, if she herself were to be left without a single Christian friend?

What would it be like to be left without a single Christian friend?


Would a life passed exclusively among the Jews content even her lessened ambition?


At ten o'clock she kissed her father's head and went to bed.


Her father grunted less audibly than usual under the operation. She had always given herself credit for high spirits, but she began to fear that her courage would not suffice to carry her through sufferings such as these.

Her father grunted less audibly than usual, and she began to fear that her courage would not carry her through sufferings such as these.


On the next day her father returned to town, and the three ladies were left alone.


Great preparations were going on for the Whitstable wedding. Dresses were being made and linen marked, and consultations held,--from all which things Georgiana was kept quite apart.

Great preparations were going on for the Whitstable wedding, from which Georgiana was kept apart.


The accepted lover came over to lunch, and was made as much of as though the Whitstables had always kept a town house.

George Whitstable came over to lunch, and was made much of.


Sophy loomed so large in her triumph and happiness, that it was not to be borne.


All Caversham treated her with a new respect.


And yet if Toodlam was a couple of thousand a year, it was all it was;--and there were two unmarried sisters!

And yet Toodlam was barely a couple of thousand a year - and there were two unmarried sisters!


Lady Pomona went half into hysterics every time she saw her younger daughter, and became in her way a most oppressive parent.

Lady Pomona went half into hysterics every time she saw her younger daughter.


Oh, heavens;--was Mr. Brehgert with his two houses worth all this?

Was Mr. Brehgert with his two houses worth all this?


A feeling of intense regret for the things she was losing came over her.


Even Caversham, the Caversham of old days which she had hated, but in which she had made herself respected and partly feared by everybody about the place,--had charms for her which seemed to her delightful now that they were lost for ever.

Even Caversham, which in old days she had hated, had charms for her now that they were lost for ever.


Then she had always considered herself to be the first personage in the house,--superior even to her father;--but now she was decidedly the last.

Then she had always considered herself to be the first personage in the house; but now she was decidedly the last.


Her second evening was worse even than the first.


When Mr. Longestaffe was not at home the family sat in a small dingy room between the library and the dining-room, and on this occasion the family consisted only of Georgiana.

When Mr. Longestaffe was not at home the family sat in a small dingy room next to the dining-room, and on this occasion the family consisted only of Georgiana.


In the course of the evening she went up-stairs and calling her sister out into the passage demanded to be told why she was thus deserted.

She went upstairs, and calling her sister, demanded to be told why she was thus deserted.


"I won't stand it if I'm to be treated like this," said Georgiana.


Of course you must have known that you were going to separate yourself from us."


On the next morning there came a dispatch from Mr. Longestaffe,--of what nature Georgey did not know as it was addressed to Lady Pomona.

On the next morning there came a letter from Mr. Longestaffe, addressed to Lady Pomona.


But one enclosure she was allowed to see.

It contained an enclosure she was allowed to see.


"Mamma," said Sophy, "thinks you ought to know how Dolly feels about it."


And then a letter from Dolly to his father was put into Georgey's hands. The letter was as follows:--


Can it be true that Georgey is thinking of marrying that horrid vulgar Jew, old Brehgert?


The fellows say so; but I can't believe it.


Dolly's letters made his father very angry, as, short as they were, they always contained advice or instruction, such as should come from a father to a son, rather than from a son to a father.

Dolly's letters made his father very angry, as, short as they were, they always contained advice such as should come from a father to a son, rather than from a son to a father.


This letter had not been received with a welcome.


Nevertheless the head of the family had thought it worth his while to make use of it, and had sent it to Caversham in order that it might be shown to his rebellious daughter.

Nevertheless the head of the family had thought it worth his while to send it to Caversham to be shown to his rebellious daughter.


And so Dolly had said that she ought to be locked up!

So Dolly said that she ought to be locked up!


As soon as she had read her brother's epistle she tore it into fragments and threw it away in her sister's presence.

As soon as she had read her brother's letter she tore it into fragments and threw it away.


"How can mamma be such a hypocrite as to pretend to care what Dolly says?

"How can mamma pretend to care what Dolly says?


And papa has thought it worth his while to send that down here for me to see!


Well, after that I must say that I don't much care what papa does."


"I don't see why Dolly shouldn't have an opinion as well as anybody else," said Sophy.


As far as stupidness goes they are about the same.


But Dolly has a little more knowledge of the world."


"Of course we all know, Georgiana," rejoined the elder sister, "that for cuteness and that kind of thing one must look among the commercial classes, and especially among a certain sort."


"I've done with you all," said Georgey rushing out of the room.


"I'll have nothing more to do with any one of you."

I'll have nothing more to do with any of you."


But it is very difficult for a young lady to have done with her family!


A young man may go anywhere, and may be lost at sea; or come and claim his property after twenty years.


A young man may demand an allowance, and has almost a right to live alone. The young male bird is supposed to fly away from the paternal nest. But the daughter of a house is compelled to adhere to her father till she shall get a husband.

A young man may go anywhere; but the daughter of a house is compelled to adhere to her father till she shall get a husband.


The only way in which Georgey could "have done" with them all at Caversham would be by trusting herself to Mr. Brehgert, and at the present moment she did not know whether Mr. Brehgert did or did not consider himself as engaged to her.

The only way in which Georgey could "have done" with them all at Caversham would be by trusting herself to Mr. Brehgert, and she did not know whether Mr. Brehgert still considered himself as engaged to her.


That day also passed away with ineffable tedium. At one time she was so beaten down by ennui that she almost offered her assistance to her sister in reference to the wedding garments.

That day was so tedious she almost offered to help her sister with the wedding garments.


In spite of the very bitter words which had been spoken in the morning she would have done so had Sophy afforded her the slightest opportunity.

She would have done so had Sophy afforded her the slightest opportunity.


But Sophy was heartlessly cruel in her indifference.


In her younger days she had had her bad things, and now,--with George Whitstable by her side,--she meant to have good things, the goodness of which was infinitely enhanced by the badness of her sister's things.


She had been so greatly despised that the charm of despising again was irresistible.

She had been so greatly despised that the charm of despising in her turn was irresistible.


And she was able to reconcile her cruelty to her conscience by telling herself that duty required her to show implacable resistance to such a marriage as this which her sister contemplated.


Therefore Georgiana dragged out another day, not in the least knowing what was to be her fate.

Therefore Georgiana dragged out another day, not knowing what was to be her fate.


Two, three, four, and even five o'clock still found Sir Felix Carbury in bed on that fatal Thursday.

Five o'clock still found Sir Felix Carbury in bed on that fatal Thursday.


More than once or twice his mother crept up to his room, but on each occasion he feigned to be fast asleep and made no reply to her gentle words.

When his mother crept up to his room, he feigned to be fast asleep.


But his condition was one which only admits of short snatches of uneasy slumber.

But he had only short snatches of uneasy slumber.


From head to foot, he was sick and ill and sore, and could find no comfort anywhere.

He was sick and sore, and could find no comfort anywhere.


To lie where he was, trying by absolute quiescence to soothe the agony of his brows and to remember that as long as he lay there he would be safe from attack by the outer world, was all the solace within his reach.

To lie quiet, trying to soothe the agony of his head, and to remember that as long as he lay there he would be safe from attack by the outer world, was all he could do.


Lady Carbury sent the page up to him, and to the page he was awake.


He asked for soda and brandy; but there was none to be had, and in his present condition he did not dare to hector about it till it was procured for him.

He asked for soda and brandy; but there was none to be had.


The world surely was now all over to him.


He had made arrangements for running away with the great heiress of the day, and had absolutely allowed the young lady to run away without him.

He had allowed the heiress to run away without him.


The details of their arrangement had been such that she absolutely would start upon her long journey across the ocean before she could find out that he had failed to keep his appointment.

She would have started her long journey across the ocean before she could discover that he had failed to be there.


Melmotte's hostility would be incurred by the attempt, and hers by the failure.


Then he had lost all his money,--and hers. He had induced his poor mother to assist in raising a fund for him,--and even that was gone.

He had lost all his money, and hers, and even his mother's.


He was so cowed that he was afraid even of his mother.


And he could remember something, but no details, of some row at the club,--but still with a conviction on his mind that he had made the row.

And he could vaguely remember starting some row at the club.


Ah,--when would he summon courage to enter the club again?

When would he summon courage to enter the club again?


When could he show himself again anywhere?


All the world would know that Marie Melmotte had attempted to run off with him, and that at the last moment he had failed her.

All the world would know that Marie Melmotte had attempted to run off with him, and that he had failed her.


What lie could he invent to cover his disgrace?


All his things were at the club;--or he thought that they were, not being quite certain whether he had not made some attempt to carry them off to the Railway Station.


If ever it could be well that a man should cut his own throat, surely the time had come for him now.

If ever a man ought to cut his own throat, surely the time had come for him now.


But as this idea presented itself to him he simply gathered the clothes around him and tried to sleep.

But he simply gathered the bedclothes around him and tried to sleep.


The death of Cato would hardly have for him persuasive charms.


Between five and six his mother again came up to him, and when he appeared to sleep, stood with her hand upon his shoulder.

Between five and six his mother again came to him, and when he appeared to sleep, stood with her hand upon his shoulder, thinking.


She, wretched woman, had been sitting all day,--thinking of it.


As regarded her son himself, his condition told his story with sufficient accuracy.


What might be the fate of the girl she could not stop to enquire.


She had not heard all the details of the proposed scheme; but she had known that Felix had proposed to be at Liverpool on the Wednesday night, and to start on Thursday for New York with the young lady; and with the view of aiding him in his object she had helped him with money.


She had bought clothes for him, and had been busy with Hetta for two days preparing for his long journey,--having told some lie to her own daughter as to the cause of her brother's intended journey.

She had bought clothes for him, and had been busy with Hetta for two days preparing for his long journey - having told some lie to her own daughter as to its cause.


He had not gone, but had come, drunk and degraded, back to the house. She had searched his pockets with less scruple than she had ever before felt, and had found his ticket for the vessel and the few sovereigns which were left to him.

When he came, drunk and degraded, back to the house, she had searched his pockets with less scruple than she had ever before felt. She had found his ticket for the vessel and the little money he had left.


About him she could read the riddle plainly.


He had stayed at his club till he was drunk, and had gambled away all his money.


When she had first seen him she had asked herself what further lie she should now tell to her daughter.

What lie should she now tell her daughter?


At breakfast there was instant need for some story. "Mary says that Felix came back this morning, and that he has not gone at all," Hetta exclaimed.


The poor woman could not bring herself to expose the vices of the son to her daughter.


She could not say that he had stumbled into the house drunk at six o'clock.


"Yes; he has come back," said Lady Carbury, broken-hearted by her troubles.


"It was some plan about the Mexican railway I believe, and has broken through.

Some plan about the Mexican railway has fallen through, I believe.


After that Hetta had said nothing during the whole day.

After that Hetta had said nothing all day.


And now, about an hour before dinner, Lady Carbury was standing by her son's bedside, determined that he should speak to her.

And now, an hour before dinner, Lady Carbury stood by her son's bedside.


"Felix," she said,--"speak to me, Felix.--I know that you are awake."

"Felix," she said, "speak to me. I know you are awake."


He groaned, and turned himself away from her, burying himself, further under the bedclothes.

He groaned, and turned away, burying himself further under the bedclothes.


"At the club.--You had better leave me now, and let Sam come up to me."


"I will leave you presently; but, Felix, you must tell me about this.


"You said this morning when you came in, that Mr. Melmotte had discovered it."


"You must have something to eat, Felix."


Do let him get me some brandy and water.


I'm so faint and sick with all this that I can hardly bear myself. I can't talk now.

I'm so faint and sick that I can't talk.


If he'll get me a bottle of soda water and some brandy, I'll tell you all about it then."

If he'll get me some soda water and brandy, I'll tell you all about it then."


"I paid it for the ticket," said he, with both his hands up to his head.


Then his mother again left him with the understanding that he was to be allowed to remain in bed till the next morning; but that he was to give her some further explanation when he had been refreshed and invigorated after his own prescription.


The boy went out and got him soda water and brandy, and meat was carried up to him, and then he did succeed for a while in finding oblivion from his misery in sleep.

The boy went out and got him soda water and brandy, and meat was carried up to him, and then he did sleep for a while.


"Mamma, I think you would be happier if you would tell me everything."

"Mamma, I think you would be happier if you told me everything."


"I can't," said Lady Carbury, bursting out into tears.

"I can't," said Lady Carbury, bursting into tears.


There is nothing to tell,--except that I am ruined."

There is nothing to tell - except that I am ruined.


Oh, God,--how much better it would be to be childless!"

Oh, God, how much better it would be to be childless!"


said Hetta, rushing across the room, and throwing herself close to her mother's side on the sofa.

said Hetta, rushing to her mother's side.


"Then marry your cousin, Roger Carbury, who is a good man, and who can protect you.

"Then marry your cousin, Roger Carbury, who is a good man, and can protect you.


You can, at any rate, find a home for yourself, and a friend for us.


You do not get drunk and gamble,--because you are a woman.


But you are stiff-necked, and will not help me in my trouble."


"Shall I marry him, mamma, without loving him?"


Do you see much of what you call love around you?


He is a gentleman, and a good man,--soft-hearted, of a sweet nature, whose life would be one effort to make yours happy.

He is a gentleman, and a good, sweet-natured man, who would try to make you happy.


You think that Felix is very bad."
"I have never said so."
"But ask yourself whether you do not give as much pain, seeing what you could do for us if you would.

Ask yourself whether you do not give as much pain as Felix.


But it never occurs to you to sacrifice even a fantasy for the advantage of others."

It never occurs to you to sacrifice a fantasy for the advantage of others."


Hetta retired from her seat on the sofa, and when her mother again went up-stairs she turned it all over in her mind.

Hetta moved away, and when her mother went upstairs she turned it over in her mind.


Could it be right that she should marry one man when she loved another?

Could it be right to marry one man when she loved another?


Could it be right that she should marry at all, for the sake of doing good to her family?

Could it be right to marry at all, for the sake of doing good to her family?


This man, whom she might marry if she would,--who did in truth worship the ground on which she trod,--was, she well knew, all that her mother had said.


Her mother had spoken of his soft heart, and his sweet nature.


But Hetta knew also that he was a man of high honour and a noble courage.

She knew that Roger had a sweet nature, and also high honour and a noble courage.


In such a condition as was hers now he was the very friend whose advice she could have asked,--had he not been the very lover who was desirous of making her his wife.

He was the very friend whose advice she could have asked - had he not wished to make her his wife.


Hetta felt that she could sacrifice much for her mother.


Money, if she had it, she could have given, though she left herself penniless.


Her time, her inclinations, her very heart's treasure, and, as she thought, her life, she could give.

Her time, her inclinations, her very heart's treasure, she could give.


She could doom herself to poverty, and loneliness, and heart-rending regrets for her mother's sake.


But she did not know how she could give herself into the arms of a man she did not love.


[Illustration: "Can I marry the man I do not love?"]


"I don't know what there is to explain," said Felix to his mother.


She had asked him why he had not gone to Liverpool, whether he had been interrupted by Melmotte himself, whether news had reached him from Marie that she had been stopped, or whether,--as might have been possible,--Marie had changed her own mind.

She had asked him why he had not gone to Liverpool, whether he had been interrupted by Melmotte, or whether Marie had changed her mind.


But he could not bring himself to tell the truth, or any story bordering on the truth.

But he could not bring himself to tell the truth.


"It didn't come off," he said, "and of course that knocked me off my legs. Well; yes. I did take some champagne when I found how it was.

"It didn't come off," he said, "and of course I did take some champagne when I found how it was.


A fellow does get cut up by that kind of thing.

A fellow gets cut up by that kind of thing.


Oh, I heard it at the club,--that the whole thing was off.

Oh, I heard it at the club - that the whole thing was off.


And then I was so mad, I can't tell what I was after.


Don't take it, for I haven't another shilling in the world."


Of course he said nothing of Marie's money, or of that which he had himself received from Melmotte.

Of course he said nothing of Marie's money, or of that which he had received from Melmotte.


And as his mother had heard nothing of these sums she could not contradict what he said. She got from him no further statement, but she was sure that there was a story to be told which would reach her ears sooner or later.

And as his mother knew nothing of these sums she could not contradict him; but she was sure there was a story to be told which would reach her ears sooner or later.


That evening, about nine o'clock, Mr. Broune called in Welbeck Street.

That evening Mr. Broune called in Welbeck Street.


He very often did call now, coming up in a cab, staying for a cup of tea, and going back in the same cab to the office of his newspaper.

He often called now, coming in a cab, staying for a cup of tea, and going back in the same cab to the newspaper office.


Since Lady Carbury had, so devotedly, abstained from accepting his offer, Mr. Broune had become almost sincerely attached to her.

Since Lady Carbury had refused his offer, Mr. Broune had become almost sincerely attached to her.


There was certainly between them now more of the intimacy of real friendship than had ever existed in earlier days.

There was certainly more real friendship between them than had ever existed earlier.


He spoke to her more freely about his own affairs, and even she would speak to him with some attempt at truth.

He spoke to her more freely about his affairs, and she would speak to him with some attempt at honesty.


There was never between them now even a shade of love-making.


She did not look into his eyes, nor did he hold her hand.


As for kissing her,--he thought no more of it than of kissing the maid-servant.


But he spoke to her of the things that worried him,--the unreasonable exactions of proprietors, and the perilous inaccuracy of contributors. He told her of the exceeding weight upon his shoulders, under which an Atlas would have succumbed. And he told her something too of his triumphs;--how he had had this fellow bowled over in punishment for some contradiction, and that man snuffed out for daring to be an enemy. And he expatiated on his own virtues, his justice and clemency. Ah,--if men and women only knew his good nature and his patriotism;--how he had spared the rod here, how he had made the fortune of a man there, how he had saved the country millions by the steadiness of his adherence to some grand truth!

But he talked of the things that worried him, and also of his editorial triumphs; how he had saved the country millions by telling some grand truth!


Lady Carbury delighted in all this and repaid him by flattery, and little confidences of her own.

Lady Carbury delighted in all this and repaid him by little confidences of her own.


Under his teaching she had almost made up her mind to give up Mr. Alf.

She had almost made up her mind to give up Mr. Alf.


Of nothing was Mr. Broune more certain than that Mr. Alf was making a fool of himself in regard to the Westminster election and those attacks on Melmotte.

Mr. Broune thought that Mr. Alf was making a fool of himself with the Westminster election and those attacks on Melmotte.


"The world of London generally knows what it is about," said Mr. Broune, "and the London world believes Mr. Melmotte to be sound.

"London believes Mr. Melmotte to be sound," he said.


I don't pretend to say that he has never done anything that he ought not to do.

"I don't pretend that he has never done anything that he ought not to.


But he is a man of wealth, power, and genius, and Alf will get the worst of it."


Under such teaching as this, Lady Carbury was almost obliged to give up Mr. Alf.


Sometimes they would sit in the front room with Hetta, to whom also Mr. Broune had become attached; but sometimes Lady Carbury would be in her own sanctum. On this evening she received him there, and at once poured forth all her troubles about Felix.

On this evening Lady Carbury at once poured forth all her troubles about Felix.


On this occasion she told him everything, and almost told him everything truly.


"The young lady went down to Liverpool, and Sir Felix was not there."


He has been in bed in this house all day.


"So I am told;--and was met at the station by the senior officer of the police at Liverpool, who brought her back to London without letting her go down to the ship at all.

"So I am told; and was met at the station by a police officer, who brought her back to London.


She must have thought that her lover was on board;--probably thinks so now.

She probably still thinks her lover was on board the ship.


"How much worse it would have been, had she been allowed to start," said Lady Carbury.

"How much worse it would have been, had she gone on board," said Lady Carbury.


She would have had a sad journey to New York, and a sadder journey back.

"Yes; she would have had a sad journey to New York, and a sadder journey back.


Has your son told you anything about money?"


"They say that the girl entrusted him with a large sum which she had taken from her father.

"They say the girl entrusted him with a large sum which she had taken from her father.


If that be so he certainly ought to lose no time in restoring it.

If that is so he certainly ought to lose no time in returning it.


If it be so,--to avoid unpleasantness,--it should be sent back at once.

But to avoid unpleasantness, it should be sent back at once."


This Mr. Broune said with a clear intimation of the importance of his advice.


She had no money to give back, nor, as she was well aware, had her son.

She had no money to give back, nor, as she knew, had her son.


What did Mr. Broune mean by a large sum?


"That would be dreadful," she said.
"Had you not better ask him about it?"
Lady Carbury was again in tears. She knew that she could not hope to get a word of truth from her son. "What do you mean by a large sum?"

"What do you mean by a large sum?" she said, in tears.


"I have not a shilling in the world, Mr. Broune."


Then it all came out,--the whole story of her poverty, as it had been brought about by her son's misconduct.

Then it all came out - the whole story of her poverty, caused by her son's misconduct.


She told him every detail of her money affairs from the death of her husband, and his will, up to the present moment.

She told him every detail of her money affairs from her husband's death up to the present.


Lady Carbury thought that she was nearly eaten up already, but she said nothing.


It is dreadful to say so, but it must be done.


Find out what money he got from Miss Melmotte and I will see that it is repaid.


That must be done;--and we will then try to get him to go abroad.

Then we will try to get him to go abroad.


I must be off now, as I have stayed too long. Do as I bid you.


Make him tell you, and send me word down to the office.

Send me word of the sum down to the office.


If you could do it early to-morrow, that would be best.


Early on the following morning a letter from Lady Carbury was put into Mr. Broune's hands, giving the story of the money as far as she had been able to extract it from Sir Felix.

Early the following morning Mr. Broune received a letter from Lady Carbury, giving the story of the money as far as she had been able to extract it from Sir Felix.


Sir Felix declared that Mr. Melmotte had owed him 600, and that he had received 250 out of this from Miss Melmotte,--so that there was still a large balance due to him.

Sir Felix declared that Mr. Melmotte had owed him 600, and that he had received 250 out of this from Miss Melmotte.


Lady Carbury went on to say that her son had at last confessed that he had lost this money at play.

Lady Carbury added that her son had at last confessed that he had lost this money at play.


The story was fairly true; but Lady Carbury in her letter acknowledged that she was not justified in believing it because it was told to her by her son.

Although this was true, she admitted that she could not safely believe anything told to her by her son.


"You shall be troubled no more with Winifrid Hurtle."


So Mrs. Hurtle had said, speaking in perfect good faith to the man whom she had come to England with the view of marrying.

So Mrs. Hurtle had said in perfect good faith to Paul Montague.


And then when he had said good-bye to her, putting out his hand to take hers for the last time, she declined that.

And when he had said good-bye to her, putting out his hand for the last time, she declined it.


"Nay," she had said; "this parting will bear no farewell."


Having left her after that fashion Paul Montague could not return home with very high spirits.


Had she insisted on his taking that letter with the threat of the horsewhip as the letter which she intended to write to him,--that letter which she had shown him, owning it to be the ebullition of her uncontrolled passion, and had then destroyed,--he might at any rate have consoled himself with thinking that, however badly he might have behaved, her conduct had been worse than his.

If she had insisted on his taking that letter with the threat of the horsewhip, he might at least have consoled himself with thinking that, however badly he had behaved, her conduct had been worse.


He could have made himself warm and comfortable with anger, and could have assured himself that under any circumstances he must be right to escape from the clutches of a wild cat such as that.

He could have made himself warm and comfortable with anger, and could have assured himself that he was right to escape from the clutches of such a wild cat.


But at the last moment she had shown that she was no wild cat to him.

But at the last moment she had been no wild cat to him.


She had melted, and become soft and womanly. In her softness she had been exquisitely beautiful; and as he returned home he was sad and dissatisfied with himself.

She had melted, and become soft and womanly, and exquisitely beautiful; and he returned home sad and dissatisfied with himself.


He had destroyed her life for her,--or, at least, had created a miserable episode in it which could hardly be obliterated.


She had said that she was all alone, and had given up everything to follow him,--and he had believed her.

She had said that she was all alone, and had given up everything to follow him.


She had allowed him to go, and after her fashion had pardoned him the wrong he had done her.


But was that to be sufficient for him,--so that he might now feel inwardly satisfied at leaving her, and make no further inquiry as to her fate?


Could he pass on and let her be as the wine that has been drunk,--as the hour that has been enjoyed,--as the day that is past?


He had resolved that, let her be woman or wild cat, he would not marry her, and in that he knew he had been right.

He had resolved that he would not marry her, and he knew he had been right.


Her antecedents, as now declared by herself, unfitted her for such a marriage.


Were he to return to her he would be again thrusting his hand into the fire.

Were he to return to her he would again be thrusting his hand into the fire.


But his own selfish coldness was hateful to him when he thought that there was nothing to be done but to leave her desolate and lonely in Mrs. Pipkin's lodgings.

But his own selfish coldness was hateful to him when he thought of her left desolate and lonely in Mrs. Pipkin's lodgings.


During the next three or four days, while the preparations for the dinner and the election were going on, he was busy in respect to the American railway.

During the next three or four days, while the preparations for the dinner and the election were going on, he was busy in regard to the American railway.


He again went down to Liverpool, and at Mr. Ramsbottom's advice prepared a letter to the board of directors, in which he resigned his seat, and gave his reasons for resigning it; adding that he should reserve to himself the liberty of publishing his letter, should at any time the circumstances of the railway company seem to him to make such a course desirable.

He again went to Liverpool, and at Mr. Ramsbottom's advice prepared a letter to the board of directors, in which he resigned his seat.


He also wrote a letter to Mr. Fisker, begging that gentleman to come to England, and expressing his own wish to retire altogether from the firm of Fisker, Montague, and Montague upon receiving the balance of money due to him,--a payment which must, he said, be a matter of small moment to his two partners, if, as he had been informed, they had enriched themselves by the success of the railway company in San Francisco.

He also wrote a letter to Mr. Fisker, begging that gentleman to come to England, and expressing his own wish to retire altogether from the firm of Fisker, Montague, and Montague, upon receiving the balance of money due to him.


When he wrote these letters at Liverpool the great rumour about Melmotte had not yet sprung up.


He returned to London on the day of the festival, and first heard of the report at the Beargarden.


There he found that the old set had for the moment broken itself up.


Sir Felix Carbury had not been heard of for the last four or five days,--and then the whole story of Miss Melmotte's journey, of which he had read something in the newspapers, was told to him.

Sir Felix Carbury had not been heard of for the last four or five days; and then the whole story of Miss Melmotte's journey was told to him.


"We think that Carbury has drowned himself," said Lord Grasslough, "and I haven't heard of anybody being heartbroken about it."


Lord Nidderdale had hardly been seen at the club.


"He's taken up the running with the girl," said Lord Grasslough.


If I was at it, I'd have the money down in hard cash before I went into the church.


He was there at the party yesterday, talking to the girl all the night;--a sort of thing he never did before.

"He was there at the party yesterday, talking to her all night - a sort of thing he never did before.


Nidderdale is the best fellow going, but he was always an ass."


Nor had Miles Grendall been seen in the club for three days.


"We've got into a way of play the poor fellow doesn't like," said Lord Grasslough; "and then Melmotte won't let him out of his sight.


This was said during the election,--on the very day on which Miles deserted his patron; and on that evening he did dine at the club.


Paul Montague also dined there, and would fain have heard something from Grendall as to Melmotte's condition; but the secretary, if not faithful in all things, was faithful at any rate in his silence.


Though Grasslough talked openly enough about Melmotte in the smoking-room Miles Grendall said never a word.


On the next day, early in the afternoon, almost without a fixed purpose, Montague strolled up to Welbeck Street, and found Hetta alone.

On the next afternoon, almost without a fixed purpose, Paul strolled up to Welbeck Street, and found Hetta alone.


"Mamma has gone to her publisher's," she said.


"She is writing so much now that she is always going there.


Paul knew nothing about the election, and cared very little.


At that time, however, the election had not been decided.


"I suppose it will make no difference to you whether your chairman be in Parliament or not?"


Paul said that Melmotte was no longer a chairman of his.

He said that Melmotte was no longer his chairman.


"Are you out of it altogether, Mr. Montague?"


Yes;--as far as it lay within his power to be out of it, he was out of it.

Yes; as far as it lay within his power, he was out of it.


He did not like Mr. Melmotte, nor believe in him.


Then with considerable warmth he repudiated all connection with the Melmotte party, expressing deep regret that circumstances had driven him for a time into that alliance.

With considerable warmth he repudiated all connection with Melmotte, expressing deep regret that circumstances had driven him for a time into that alliance.


"Then you think that Mr. Melmotte is--?"


"Of course I heard that he was to marry the girl, and that he tried to run off with her.

"I heard that he tried to run off with the girl.


They say that Lord Nidderdale is to marry her now."


At any rate, your brother is well out of it."


"Do you know that she loves Felix? There is no pretence about that.

"Do you know that she truly loves Felix?


The other night at the party she spoke to me."


"Yes;--I could not refuse to go when mamma chose to take me.


And when I was there she spoke to me about Felix.


I don't think she will marry Lord Nidderdale.


Think what a downfall it will be if anything happens."


But Paul Montague had certainly not come there with the intention of discussing Melmotte's affairs, nor could he afford to lose the opportunity which chance had given him.

But Paul Montague had not come to discuss Melmotte's affairs.


He was off with one love, and now he thought that he might be on with the other.


"Hetta," he said, "I am thinking more of myself than of her,--or even of Felix."

"Hetta," he said, "I am thinking more of myself than of her."


"I suppose we all do think more of ourselves than of other people," said Hetta, who knew from his voice at once what it was in his mind to do.

"I suppose we all do think more of ourselves than of other people," said Hetta, who knew from his voice at once what he intended.


"Yes;--but I am not thinking of myself only. I am thinking of myself, and you.

"Yes; but I am thinking of myself and of you.


In all my thoughts of myself I am thinking of you too."


And of course she thought that he was equally sure of her love.

And she thought that he was equally sure of her love.


Had he chosen to read signs that ought to have been plain enough to him, could he have doubted her love after the few words that had been spoken on that night when Lady Carbury had come in with Roger and interrupted them?

Could he have doubted her love after the few words that had been spoken on that night when Lady Carbury had interrupted them?


She could not remember exactly what had been said; but she did remember that he had spoken of leaving England for ever in a certain event, and that she had not rebuked him;--and she remembered also how she had confessed her own love to her mother.


He, of course, had known nothing of that confession; but he must have known that he had her heart!

He must have known that he had her heart!


She had been working some morsel of lace, as ladies do when ladies wish to be not quite doing nothing.

She had been sewing some morsel of lace, as ladies do when they wish to be not quite doing nothing.


She had endeavoured to ply her needle, very idly, while he was speaking to her, but now she allowed her hands to fall into her lap.

Now she allowed her hands to fall into her lap.


She would have continued to work at the lace had she been able, but there are times when the eyes will not see clearly, and when the hands will hardly act mechanically.


Look at me for one moment so as to let me know."


Her eyes had turned downwards after her work.

Her eyes had turned downwards to her work.


"If Roger is dearer to you than I am, I will go at once."


"Do you love him as I would have you love me?"


She paused for a time, knowing that his eyes were fixed upon her, and then she answered the question in a low voice, but very clearly.


He put out both his arms as though to take her to his breast should the answer be such as he longed to hear.


She raised her hand towards him, as if to keep him back, and left it with him when he seized it.

She raised her hand as if to keep him back, and left it with him when he seized it.


Then he was at her feet in a moment, kissing her hands and her dress, looking up into her face with his eyes full of tears, ecstatic with joy as though he had really never ventured to hope for such success.

Then he was at her feet in a moment, kissing her hands and her dress, looking up into her face with his eyes full of tears, ecstatic with joy.


"Hetta, I have never wanted anything but that with real desire.

"Hetta, I have never wanted anything but that.


Since I first saw you this has been my only dream of happiness.


Now that she had told him the truth she did not coy her love.


Having once spoken the word she did not care how often she repeated it.


She did not think that she could ever have loved anybody but him,--even if he had not been fond of her.

She did not think that she could ever have loved anybody but him.


As to Roger,--dear Roger, dearest Roger,--no; it was not the same thing.

As to Roger - dear Roger - no; it was not the same thing.


"He is as good as gold," she said,--"ever so much better than you are, Paul," stroking his hair with her hand and looking into his eyes.

"He is as good as gold," she said, "ever so much better than you are, Paul," stroking his hair with her hand and looking into his eyes.


"Better than anybody I have ever known," said Montague with all his energy.

"Better than anybody I have ever known," said Montague.


"I think he is;--but, ah, that is not everything.

"I think he is; but that is not everything.


I suppose we ought to love the best people best; but I don't, Paul."


You must love me best, but I won't be called good.


Do you know, Paul, I have sometimes thought I would do as he would have me, out of sheer gratitude.

Do you know, Paul, I have sometimes thought I would accept him, out of sheer gratitude."


I did not know how to refuse such a trifling thing to one who ought to have everything that he wants."


Somebody else would have made you happy.


But do you know, Paul, I think he will never love any one else.

But, Paul, I think he will never love anyone else.


I ought not to say so, because it seems to be making so much of myself.


He is not so young a man, and yet I think that he never was in love before.

He is not young, and yet I think that he never was in love before.


He almost told me so once, and what he says is true.


There is an unchanging way with him that is awful to think of.


He said that he never could be happy unless I would do as he would have me,--and he made me almost believe even that.

He said that he could never be happy unless I would marry him.


He speaks as though every word he says must come true in the end.


Oh, Paul, I love you so dearly,--but I almost think that I ought to have obeyed him."

Oh, Paul, I love you so dearly - but I almost think that I ought to have obeyed him."


Paul Montague of course had very much to say in answer to this.


Among the holy things which did exist to gild this every-day unholy world, love was the holiest.


It should be soiled by no falsehood, should know nothing of compromises, should admit no excuses, should make itself subject to no external circumstances.


If Fortune had been so kind to him as to give him her heart, poor as his claim might be, she could have no right to refuse him the assurance of her love.


And though his rival were an angel, he could have no shadow of a claim upon her,--seeing that he had failed to win her heart.

Even if Roger were an angel, he could have no claim upon her, since he had failed to win her heart.


It was very well said,--at least so Hetta thought,--and she made no attempt at argument against him.


But what was to be done in reference to poor Roger?

But what was to be done about poor Roger?


She had spoken the word now, and, whether for good or bad, she had given herself to Paul Montague.

Whether for good or bad, Hetta had now given herself to Paul Montague.


Even though Roger should have to walk disconsolate to the grave, it could not now be helped. But would it not be right that it should be told?


"Do you know I almost feel that he is like a father to me," said Hetta, leaning on her lover's shoulder.

"Do you know, I almost feel that he is like a father to me," said Hetta, leaning on her lover's shoulder.


Paul thought it over for a few minutes, and then said that he would himself write to Roger.

Paul thought it over, and then said that he would himself write to Roger.


"Hetta, do you know, I doubt whether he will ever speak to me again."

"Hetta, I doubt whether he will ever speak to me again."


"There is a sternness about him which it is very hard to understand.


He has taught himself to think that as I met you in his house, and as he then wished you to be his wife, I should not have ventured to love you.

He has taught himself to think that as I met you in his house, and as he wished you to be his wife, I should not have ventured to love you.


"Oh, then, you never could have spoken to me like this."


"But he will never look at it in that way;--and he will tell me that I have been untrue to him and ungrateful."
"If you think, Paul--"
"Nay; listen to me. If it be so I must bear it. It will be a great sorrow, but it will be as nothing to that other sorrow, had that come upon me.

He will tell me that I have been untrue to him and ungrateful - and I must bear it, though it will be a great sorrow.


I will write to him, and his answer will be all scorn and wrath.


I think he will forgive you, but he will never forgive me."


Then they parted, she having promised that she would tell her mother directly Lady Carbury came home, and Paul undertaking to write to Roger that evening.


And he did, with infinite difficulty, and much trembling of the spirit.


I think it right to tell you at once what has occurred to-day.

I think it right to tell you at once what has occurred today.


I have proposed to Miss Carbury and she has accepted me.


You have long known what my feelings were, and I have also known yours.


I have known, too, that Miss Carbury has more than once declined to take your offer.


Under these circumstances I cannot think that I have been untrue to friendship in what I have done, or that I have proved myself ungrateful for the affectionate kindness which you have always shown me.

Under these circumstances I cannot think that I have been untrue to our friendship, or that I have proved myself ungrateful for the affectionate kindness which you have always shown me.


I am authorised by Hetta to say that, had I never spoken to her, it must have been the same to you.

I am authorised by Hetta to say that, even if I had never spoken to her, it must have been the same to you.


This was hardly a fair representation of what had been said, but the writer, looking back upon his interview with the lady, thought that it had been implied.

(This was hardly what had been said, but the writer, looking back upon his interview with the lady, thought that it had been implied.)


I should not say so much by way of excusing myself, but that you once said, that should such a thing occur there must be a division between us ever after.

You once said, that should such a thing occur there must be a division between us ever after.


If I thought that you would adhere to that threat, I should be very unhappy and Hetta would be miserable.

If I thought that you would keep to that threat, I should be very unhappy and Hetta would be miserable.


Surely, if a man loves he is bound to tell his love, and to take the chance.


You would hardly have thought it manly in me if I had abstained.


Dear friend, take a day or two before you answer this, and do not banish us from your heart if you can help it.


Roger Carbury did not take a single day,--or a single hour to answer the letter.

Roger Carbury did not take a single day, or a single hour to answer the letter.


He received it at breakfast, and after rushing out on the terrace and walking there for a few minutes, he hurried to his desk and wrote his reply. As he did so, his whole face was red with wrath, and his eyes were glowing with indignation.

He received it at breakfast, and after rushing out on the terrace and walking there for a few minutes, he hurried to his desk and wrote his reply, his face red with wrath, and his eyes glowing with indignation.


There is an old French saying that he who makes excuses is his own accuser.


You would not have written as you have done, had you not felt yourself to be false and ungrateful.


You knew where my heart was, and there you went and undermined my treasure, and stole it away.


You have destroyed my life, and I will never forgive you.


You tell me not to banish you both from my heart.


How dare you join yourself with her in speaking of my feelings!


She will never be banished from my heart.


She will be there morning, noon, and night, and as is and will be my love to her, so shall be my enmity to you.

She will be there morning, noon, and night, and as is my love to her, so shall be my enmity to you.


It was hardly a letter for a Christian to write; and, yet, in those parts Roger Carbury had the reputation of being a good Christian.


Henrietta told her mother that morning, immediately on her return.


"Mamma, Mr. Paul Montague has been here."
"He always comes here when I am away," said Lady Carbury.
"That has been an accident. He could not have known that you were going to Messrs. Leadham and Loiter's."
"I'm not so sure of that, Hetta."
"Then, mamma, you must have told him yourself, and I don't think you knew till just before you were going. But, mamma, what does it matter? He has been here, and I have told him--"

"Mamma, Mr. Paul Montague has been here, and I have told him-"


I will not marry him without asking you."


How was I not to tell him when he asked me whether I--loved him?"


How is it possible you should marry him?


Whatever he had got was in that affair of Melmotte's, and that has gone to the dogs.


He is a ruined man, and for aught I know may be compromised in all Melmotte's wickedness."

He is a ruined man, and for all I know he may be compromised in Melmotte's wickedness."


I did think that you would try to comfort me after all this trouble with Felix.


But you are as bad as he is;--or worse, for you have not been thrown into temptation like that poor boy!


I feel for him;--he that has been so true to us!


"And how do you show it;--or your love for me?


There would have been a home for us all.


Hetta, you have been worse to me even than Felix."

Hetta, you have been even worse to me than Felix."


Then Lady Carbury, in her passion, burst out of the room, and took herself to her own chamber.

Then Lady Carbury burst out of the room, and took herself to her own chamber.


While these things were being done in Bruton Street and Grosvenor Square horrid rumours were prevailing in the City and spreading from the City westwards to the House of Commons, which was sitting this Monday afternoon with a prospect of an adjournment at seven o'clock in consequence of the banquet to be given to the Emperor.

While these things were happening, horrid rumours were spreading from the City westwards to the House of Commons, which was sitting this Monday afternoon with a prospect of adjourning at seven o'clock because of the banquet for the Emperor.


It is difficult to explain the exact nature of this rumour, as it was not thoroughly understood by those who propagated it.

It is difficult to explain the exact nature of this rumour, as it was not thoroughly understood by those who spread it.


But it is certainly the case that the word forgery was whispered by more than one pair of lips.

But certainly the word 'forgery' was whispered by more than one pair of lips.


Many of Melmotte's staunchest supporters thought that he was very wrong not to show himself that day in the City.

Many of Melmotte's staunchest supporters thought that he was wrong not to show himself that day in the City.


What good could he do pottering about among the chairs and benches in the banqueting room?

What good could he do pottering about in the banqueting room?


There were people to manage that kind of thing.


In such an affair it was his business to do simply as he was told, and to pay the bill.


It was not as though he were giving a little dinner to a friend, and had to see himself that the wine was brought up in good order.


His work was in the City; and at such a time as this and in such a crisis as this, he should have been in the City.

In such a crisis as this, he should have been in the City.


Men will whisper forgery behind a man's back who would not dare even to think it before his face.


Of this particular rumour our young friend Dolly Longestaffe was the parent.


With unhesitating resolution, nothing awed by his father, Dolly had gone to his attorney, Mr. Squercum, immediately after that Friday on which Mr. Longestaffe first took his seat at the Railway Board.

Unawed by his father, Dolly had gone to his attorney, Mr. Squercum, immediately after Mr. Longestaffe first took his seat at the Railway Board.


Dolly was possessed of fine qualities, but it must be owned that veneration was not one of them.


"I don't know why Mr. Melmotte is to be different from anybody else," he had said to his father.


"When I buy a thing and don't pay for it, it is because I haven't got the tin, and I suppose it's about the same with him.

"When I buy a thing and don't pay for it, it is because I haven't got the tin, and I suppose it's the same with him.


It's all right, no doubt, but I don't see why he should have got hold of the place till the money was paid down."


"Of course it's all right," said the father.


"You think you understand everything, when you really understand nothing at all."


When a fellow is stupid himself, he ought to have a sharp fellow to look after his business."


"You'll ruin me and yourself too, if you go to such a man as that.


Slow and Bideawhile have been the family lawyers for a century."


Dolly made some remark as to the old family advisers which was by no means pleasing to the father's ears, and went his way.

But Dolly made some disparaging remark, and went his way.


The father knew his boy, and knew that his boy would go to Squercum.

The father knew that his boy would go to Squercum.


All he could himself do was to press Mr. Melmotte for the money with what importunity he could assume. He wrote a timid letter to Mr. Melmotte, which had no result; and then, on the next Friday, again went into the City and there encountered perturbation of spirit and sheer loss of time,--as the reader has already learned.

All he could do was to press Mr. Melmotte for the money; but in vain, as the reader has already learned.


Squercum was a thorn in the side of all the Bideawhiles. Mr. Slow had been gathered to his fathers, but of the Bideawhiles there were three in the business, a father and two sons, to whom Squercum was a pest and a musquito, a running sore and a skeleton in the cupboard. It was not only in reference to Mr. Longestaffe's affairs that they knew Squercum. The Bideawhiles piqued themselves on the decorous and orderly transaction of their business.

Squercum was a thorn in the side of all the Bideawhiles, who piqued themselves on the decorous and orderly transaction of their business.


It had grown to be a rule in the house that anything done quickly must be done badly.

It was their rule that anything done quickly must be done badly.


They never were in a hurry for money, and they expected their clients never to be in a hurry for work.


He had established himself, without predecessors and without a partner, and we may add without capital, at a little office in Fetter Lane, and had there made a character for getting things done after a marvellous and new fashion.

He had established himself, without a partner, at a little office in Fetter Lane, and had there made a name for getting things done in a new and marvellous fashion.


And it was said of him that he was fairly honest, though it must be owned that among the Bideawhiles of the profession this was not the character which he bore. He did sharp things no doubt, and had no hesitation in supporting the interests of sons against those of their fathers.

It was said that he was fairly honest, though he did sharp things, no doubt, and had no hesitation in supporting the interests of sons against those of their fathers.


In more than one case he had computed for a young heir the exact value of his share in a property as compared to that of his father, and had come into hostile contact with many family Bideawhiles.


There were some who, no doubt, would have liked to crush a man who was at once so clever, and so pestilential.


But he had not as yet been crushed, and had become quite in vogue with elder sons.


Some three years since his name had been mentioned to Dolly by a friend who had for years been at war with his father, and Squercum had been quite a comfort to Dolly.


He was a mean-looking little man, not yet above forty, who always wore a stiff light-coloured cotton cravat, an old dress coat, a coloured dingy waistcoat, and light trousers of some hue different from his waistcoat.

He was a mean-looking little man, about forty, who always wore an old dress coat, a dingy waistcoat, and light trousers of some different hue.


He generally had on dirty shoes and gaiters.


He was light haired, with light whiskers, with putty-formed features, a squat nose, a large mouth, and very bright blue eyes.

He had putty-formed features, a squat nose, a large mouth, and bright blue eyes.


He looked as unlike the normal Bideawhile of the profession as a man could be; and it must be owned, though an attorney, would hardly have been taken for a gentleman from his personal appearance.


He was very quick, and active in his motions, absolutely doing his law work himself, and trusting to his three or four juvenile clerks for little more than scrivener's labour.

He was very quick and active, doing his law work himself, and trusting to his three or four juvenile clerks for little more than copying.


He seldom or never came to his office on a Saturday, and many among his enemies said that he was a Jew.


What evil will not a rival say to stop the flow of grist to the mill of the hated one?


But this report Squercum rather liked, and assisted.


They who knew the inner life of the little man declared that he kept a horse and hunted down in Essex on Saturday, doing a bit of gardening in the summer months;--and they said also that he made up for this by working hard all Sunday.


Such was Mr. Squercum,--a sign, in his way, that the old things are being changed.


Squercum sat at a desk, covered with papers in chaotic confusion, on a chair which moved on a pivot.

Squercum sat at a desk covered with papers in chaotic confusion, on a swivel chair.


His desk was against the wall, and when clients came to him, he turned himself sharp round, sticking out his dirty shoes, throwing himself back till his body was an inclined plane, with his hands thrust into his pockets.

When clients came to him, he turned himself sharp round, sticking out his dirty shoes, and throwing himself back with his hands thrust into his pockets.


In this attitude he would listen to his client's story, and would himself speak as little as possible.


It was by his instructions that Dolly had insisted on getting his share of the purchase money for Pickering into his own hands, so that the incumbrance on his own property might be paid off. He now listened as Dolly told him of the delay in the payment.

He now listened as Dolly told him of the delay in the payment for Pickering.


Then Dolly informed him how the tradesmen of the great financier had already half knocked down the house.

Dolly informed him how tradesmen had already half knocked down the house.


Squercum still listened, and promised to look to it. He did ask what authority Dolly had given for the surrender of the title-deeds.

Squercum asked what authority Dolly had given for the surrender of the title-deeds.


Dolly declared that he had given authority for the sale, but none for the surrender.


His father, some time since, had put before him, for his signature, a letter, prepared in Mr. Bideawhile's office, which Dolly said that he had refused even to read, and certainly had not signed.

Some time ago his father had put before him, for his signature, a letter prepared in Mr. Bideawhile's office, which Dolly said that he had refused even to read, and certainly had not signed.


Squercum again said that he'd look to it, and bowed Dolly out of his room.

Squercum said that he'd look into it, and bowed Dolly out of his room.


"They've got him to sign something when he was tight," said Squercum to himself, knowing something of the habits of his client.

"They've got him to sign something when he was drunk," said Squercum to himself, knowing something of his client's habits.


"I wonder whether his father did it, or old Bideawhile, or Melmotte himself?" Mr. Squercum was inclined to think that Bideawhile would not have done it, that Melmotte could have had no opportunity, and that the father must have been the practitioner. "It's not the trick of a pompous old fool either," said Mr. Squercum, in his soliloquy.

"I expect his father did it, not that pompous old fool Bideawhile."


He went to work, however, making himself detestably odious among the very respectable clerks in Mr. Bideawhile's office,--men who considered themselves to be altogether superior to Squercum himself in professional standing.

He went to work, however, making himself detestably odious among the very respectable clerks in Mr. Bideawhile's office.


[Illustration: Mr. Squercum in his office.]


And now there came this rumour which was so far particular in its details that it inferred the forgery, of which it accused Mr. Melmotte, to his mode of acquiring the Pickering property.

And now there came this rumour which accused Mr. Melmotte of forgery in his mode of acquiring the Pickering property.


The nature of the forgery was of course described in various ways,--as was also the signature said to have been forged.

The nature of the forgery was described in various ways.


But there were many who believed, or almost believed, that something wrong had been done,--that some great fraud had been committed; and in connection with this it was ascertained,--by some as a matter of certainty,--that the Pickering estate had been already mortgaged by Melmotte to its full value at an assurance office. In such a transaction there would be nothing dishonest; but as this place had been bought for the great man's own family use, and not as a speculation, even this report of the mortgage tended to injure his credit.

But there were many who believed that some great fraud had been committed; and it was ascertained that the Pickering estate had already been mortgaged by Melmotte to its full value - a report which injured his credit.


And then, as the day went on, other tidings were told as to other properties.

As the day went on, other news was told about other properties.


Houses in the East-end of London were said to have been bought and sold, without payment of the purchase money as to the buying, and with receipt of the purchase money as to the selling.

Houses in the East-end of London were said to have been bought and sold, without payment of the purchase money when buying, and with receipt of the purchase money when selling.


It was certainly true that Squercum himself had seen the letter in Mr. Bideawhile's office which conveyed to the father's lawyer the son's sanction for the surrender of the title-deeds, and that that letter, prepared in Mr. Bideawhile's office, purported to have Dolly's signature.

Squercum himself saw the letter in Mr. Bideawhile's office which gave the son's permission for the surrender of the title-deeds. That letter purported to have Dolly's signature.


Squercum said but little, remembering that his client was not always clear in the morning as to anything he had done on the preceding evening.

Squercum knew that his client was not always clear in the morning as to anything he had done on the preceding evening.


But the signature, though it was scrawled as Dolly always scrawled it, was not like the scrawl of a drunken man.


The letter was said to have been sent to Mr. Bideawhile's office with other letters and papers, direct from old Mr. Longestaffe.


Such was the statement made at first to Mr. Squercum by the Bideawhile party, who at that moment had no doubt of the genuineness of the letter or of the accuracy of their statement.

Such was the statement made at first by the Bideawhiles, who had no doubt of the genuineness of the letter or of the accuracy of their statement.


Then Squercum saw his client again, and returned to the charge at Bideawhile's office, with the positive assurance that the signature was a forgery.


Dolly, when questioned by Squercum, quite admitted his propensity to be "tight." He had no reticence, no feeling of disgrace on such matters. But he had signed no letter when he was tight.

Dolly had insisted that he had signed no letter when he was tight.


"Never did such a thing in my life, and nothing could make me," said Dolly.


"I'm never tight except at the club, and the letter couldn't have been there.


I'll be drawn and quartered if I ever signed it.


Dolly was intent on going to his father at once, on going to Melmotte at once, on going to Bideawhile's at once, and making there "no end of a row,"--but Squercum stopped him.

Dolly was intent on going at once to his father, or Melmotte or Bideawhile's, and making "no end of a row," but Squercum stopped him.


"We'll just ferret this thing out quietly," said Squercum, who perhaps thought that there would be high honour in discovering the peccadillos of so great a man as Mr. Melmotte.

"We'll just ferret this thing out quietly," he said.


Mr. Longestaffe, the father, had heard nothing of the matter till the Saturday after his last interview with Melmotte in the City.


He had then called at Bideawhile's office in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and had been shown the letter.

He had then called at Bideawhile's office, and was shown the letter.


He declared at once that he had never sent the letter to Mr. Bideawhile.


He had begged his son to sign the letter and his son had refused.

He had begged his son to sign it and his son had refused.


He did not at that moment distinctly remember what he had done with the letter unsigned.

He did not distinctly remember what he had done with the unsigned letter.


He believed he had left it with the other papers; but it was possible that his son might have taken it away.


He acknowledged that at the time he had been both angry and unhappy.


He didn't think that he could have sent the letter back unsigned,--but he was not sure.


He had more than once been in his own study in Bruton Street since Mr. Melmotte had occupied the house,--by that gentleman's leave,--having left various papers there under his own lock and key.

He had more than once been in his own study in Bruton Street since Mr. Melmotte had occupied the house, having left various papers there under his own lock and key.


Indeed it had been matter of agreement that he should have access to his own study when he let the house.

It had been agreed when he let the house that he should have access to his study.


He thought it probable that he would have kept back the unsigned letter, and have kept it under lock and key, when he sent away the other papers.

He thought it probable that he would have kept the unsigned letter locked up there, when he sent away the other papers.


Then reference was made to Mr. Longestaffe's own letter to the lawyer, and it was found that he had not even alluded to that which his son had been asked to sign; but that he had said, in his own usually pompous style, that Mr. Longestaffe, junior, was still prone to create unsubstantial difficulties.

On looking at Mr. Longestaffe's own letter to the lawyer, it was found that he had not even alluded to that which his son had been asked to sign; but that he had said that his son was still creating difficulties.


Mr. Bideawhile was obliged to confess that there had been a want of caution among his own people.

Mr. Bideawhile was obliged to confess that there had been a lack of caution among his own people.


This allusion to the creation of difficulties by Dolly, accompanied, as it was supposed to have been, by Dolly's letter doing away with all difficulties, should have attracted notice.

This allusion to the creation of difficulties by Dolly, accompanied by Dolly's supposed letter doing away with all difficulties, should have attracted notice.


Dolly's letter must have come in a separate envelope; but such envelope could not be found, and the circumstance was not remembered by the clerk.

Dolly's letter must have come in a separate envelope; but the envelope could not be found.


The clerk who had prepared the letter for Dolly's signature represented himself as having been quite satisfied when the letter came again beneath his notice with Dolly's well-known signature.


Such were the facts as far as they were known at Messrs. Slow and Bideawhile's office,--from whom no slightest rumour emanated; and as they had been in part collected by Squercum, who was probably less prudent.

Such were the facts as far as they were known at Slow and Bideawhile's office.


The Bideawhiles were still perfectly sure that Dolly had signed the letter, believing the young man to be quite incapable of knowing on any day what he had done on the day before.


Squercum was quite sure that his client had not signed it.


And it must be owned on Dolly's behalf that his manner on this occasion was qualified to convince.

And certainly Dolly's manner on this occasion was convincing.


"Yes," he said to Squercum; "it's easy saying that I'm lack-a-daisical.

"Yes," he said to Squercum; "I'm lack-a-daisical.


But I know when I'm lack-a-daisical and when I'm not.


Awake or asleep, drunk or sober, I never signed that letter."


It would be hard to say how the rumour first got into the City on this Monday morning.


Though the elder Longestaffe had first heard of the matter only on the previous Saturday, Mr. Squercum had been at work for above a week.


Mr. Squercum's little matter alone might hardly have attracted the attention which certainly was given on this day to Mr. Melmotte's private affairs;--but other facts coming to light assisted Squercum's views.

Mr. Squercum's little matter alone might hardly have attracted any attention; but other facts were coming to light about Melmotte's affairs.


A great many shares of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway had been thrown upon the market, all of which had passed through the hands of Mr. Cohenlupe;--and Mr. Cohenlupe in the City had been all to Mr. Melmotte as Lord Alfred had been at the West End.

A great many shares of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway had been thrown upon the market, all of which had passed through the hands of Mr. Cohenlupe.


Then there was the mortgage of this Pickering property, for which the money certainly had not been paid; and there was the traffic with half a street of houses near the Commercial Road, by which a large sum of money had come into Mr. Melmotte's hands.

Then there was the mortgage of this Pickering property, for which the money certainly had not been paid; and there was the sale of half a street of houses near the Commercial Road, by which a large sum of money had come into Mr. Melmotte's hands.


There were many who thought that it would all be right. There were not a few who expressed the most thorough contempt for these rumours.

There were many who thought that it would all be right, and expressed contempt for these rumours.


But it was felt to be a pity that Mr. Melmotte was not in the City.


The Lord Mayor had even made up his mind that he would not go to the dinner. What one of his brother aldermen said to him about leaving others in the lurch might be quite true; but, as his lordship remarked, Melmotte was a commercial man, and as these were commercial transactions it behoved the Lord Mayor of London to be more careful than other men.

The Lord Mayor had made up his mind that he would not go, feeling that he needed to be more careful than other men.


He had always had his doubts, and he would not go.


Others of the chosen few of the City who had been honoured with commands to meet the Emperor resolved upon absenting themselves unless the Lord Mayor went.

Others of the chosen few of the City who had been honoured with invitations resolved to absent themselves unless the Lord Mayor went.


The affair was very much discussed, and there were no less than six declared City defaulters.

The affair was much discussed, and six City men defaulted.


At the last moment a seventh was taken ill and sent a note to Miles Grendall excusing himself, which was thrust into the secretary's hands just as the Emperor arrived.

A seventh was taken ill and sent a note to Miles Grendall excusing himself.


But a reverse worse than this took place;--a defalcation more injurious to the Melmotte interests generally even than that which was caused either by the prudence or by the cowardice of the City Magnates.

But there was a reverse worse than this, and more injurious to Melmotte.


The House of Commons, at its meeting, had heard the tidings in an exaggerated form.

The House of Commons had heard the tidings in an exaggerated form.


It was whispered about that Melmotte had been detected in forging the deed of conveyance of a large property, and that he had already been visited by policemen.

It was whispered that Melmotte had been detected in forging the deed of conveyance of a large property, and that he had already been visited by policemen.


By some it was believed that the Great Financier would lie in the hands of the Philistines while the Emperor of China was being fed at his house.


In the third edition of the "Evening Pulpit" came out a mysterious paragraph which nobody could understand but they who had known all about it before.

The Evening Pulpit contained a mysterious paragraph:


"A rumour is prevalent that frauds to an enormous extent have been committed by a gentleman whose name we are particularly unwilling to mention.

"A rumour is prevalent that enormous frauds have been committed by a gentleman whose name we are unwilling to mention.


If it be so it is indeed remarkable that they should have come to light at the present moment.

If it be so it is remarkable that they should have come to light at the present moment."


We cannot trust ourselves to say more than this."


No one likes even to have dined with a swindler,--especially to have dined with him at a time when his swindling was known or suspected.


The Emperor of China no doubt was going to dine with this man.


The motions of Emperors are managed with such ponderous care that it was held to be impossible now to save the country from what would doubtless be felt to be a disgrace if it should hereafter turn out that a forger had been solicited to entertain the imperial guest of the country.

The motions of Emperors are managed with such ponderous care that it was held to be impossible now to save the country from the disgrace that would be felt if it turned out that he had been entertained by a forger.


Nor was the thing as yet so far certain as to justify such a charge, were it possible. But many men were unhappy in their minds.

The thing was far from certain; but many men were unhappy.


How would the story be told hereafter if Melmotte should be allowed to play out his game of host to the Emperor, and be arrested for forgery as soon as the Eastern Monarch should have left his house?

How would the story be told hereafter if Melmotte should be arrested for forgery as soon as the Eastern Monarch had left his house?


How would the brother of the Sun like the remembrance of the banquet which he had been instructed to honour with his presence?


How would it tell in all the foreign newspapers, in New York, in Paris, and Vienna, that this man who had been cast forth from the United States, from France, and from Austria had been selected as the great and honourable type of British Commerce?

How would it be told in all the foreign newspapers, that this man had been selected as the great and honourable type of British Commerce?


There were those in the House who thought that the absolute consummation of the disgrace might yet be avoided, and who were of opinion that the dinner should be "postponed."

There were those in the House who thought that disgrace might yet be avoided, and that the dinner should be "postponed."


The leader of the Opposition had a few words on the subject with the Prime Minister.


"It is the merest rumour," said the Prime Minister.


"I have inquired, and there is nothing to justify me in thinking that the charges can be substantiated."


"They say that the story is believed in the City."


"I should not feel myself justified in acting upon such a report.


The Prince might probably find it impossible not to go.


Where should we be if Mr. Melmotte to-morrow were able to prove the whole to be a calumny, and to show that the thing had been got up with a view of influencing the election at Westminster?

Where should we be if Mr. Melmotte tomorrow were able to prove the whole thing was a calumny, got up to influence the election at Westminster?


"Most assuredly," said the Prime Minister.


"And I hope that you will keep me in countenance."


His political antagonist declared with a smile that at such a crisis he would not desert his honourable friend;--but he could not answer for his followers.

His political antagonist declared with a smile that he would not desert his honourable friend; but he could not answer for his followers.


There was, he admitted, a strong feeling among the leaders of the Conservative party of distrust in Melmotte. He considered it probable that among his friends who had been invited there would be some who would be unwilling to meet even the Emperor of China on the existing terms.

He admitted that many leaders of the Conservative party distrusted Melmotte, and would be unwilling to go, even to meet the Emperor of China.


"They should remember," said the Prime Minister, "that they are also to meet their own Prince, and that empty seats on such an occasion will be a dishonour to him."

"They should remember," said the Prime Minister, "that they are also to meet their own Prince, and that empty seats will be a dishonour to him."


"Just at present I can only answer for myself," said the leader of the Opposition.--At that moment even the Prime Minister was much disturbed in his mind; but in such emergencies a Prime Minister can only choose the least of two evils.

"I can only answer for myself," said the leader of the Opposition.
The Prime Minister was much disturbed; but he could only choose the lesser of two evils.


To have taken the Emperor to dine with a swindler would be very bad; but to desert him, and to stop the coming of the Emperor and all the Princes on a false rumour, would be worse.

To have taken the Emperor to dine with a swindler would be very bad; but to stop the coming of the Emperor on a false rumour, would be worse.


It was very generally said in the city about this time that the Great South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway was the very best thing out.

It was said in the city at this time that the Great South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway was the very best thing out.


It was known that Mr. Melmotte had gone into it with heart and hand.


There were many who declared,--with gross injustice to the Great Fisker,--that the railway was Melmotte's own child, that he had invented it, advertised it, agitated it, and floated it; but it was not the less popular on that account.


A railway from Salt Lake City to Mexico no doubt had much of the flavour of a castle in Spain.


Our far-western American brethren are supposed to be imaginative.


Mexico has not a reputation among us for commercial security, or that stability which produces its four, five, or six per cent.

Mexico has not a reputation for commercial security, or stability.


But there was the Panama railway, a small affair which had paid twenty-five per cent.; and there was the great line across the continent to San Francisco, in which enormous fortunes had been made.

But the Panama railway had paid twenty-five per cent; and in the great line across the continent to San Francisco, enormous fortunes had been made.


It came to be believed that men with their eyes open might do as well with the Great South Central as had ever been done before with other speculations, and this belief was no doubt founded on Mr. Melmotte's partiality for the enterprise.

It was believed that the Great South Central might be just as successful, and this belief was no doubt founded on Mr. Melmotte's support for the enterprise.


Mr. Fisker had "struck 'ile" when he induced his partner, Montague, to give him a note to the great man.


Paul Montague himself, who cannot be said to have been a man having his eyes open, in the city sense of the word, could not learn how the thing was progressing.

Paul Montague, however, could not learn how the thing was progressing.


At the regular meetings of the Board, which never sat for above half an hour, two or three papers were read by Miles Grendall. Melmotte himself would speak a few slow words, intended to be cheery, and always indicative of triumph, and then everybody would agree to everything, somebody would sign something, and the "Board" for that day would be over.

At the regular half-hour meetings of the Board, two or three papers were read by Miles Grendall; Melmotte would speak a few slow words, indicative of triumph, and then everybody would agree to everything, somebody would sign something, and the "Board" for that day would be over.


To Paul Montague this was very unsatisfactory.


More than once or twice he endeavoured to stay the proceedings, not as disapproving, but "simply as desirous of being made to understand;" but the silent scorn of his chairman put him out of countenance, and the opposition of his colleagues was a barrier which he was not strong enough to overcome.

More than once he tried to halt the proceedings, "simply as wishing to understand;" but the silent scorn of his chairman and the opposition of his colleagues were barriers which he was not strong enough to overcome.


Lord Alfred Grendall would declare that he "did not think all that was at all necessary."

Lord Alfred Grendall would declare that he "did not think that was at all necessary."


Lord Nidderdale, with whom Montague had now become intimate at the Beargarden, would nudge him in the ribs and bid him hold his tongue.

Lord Nidderdale would nudge him and bid him hold his tongue.


Mr. Cohenlupe would make a little speech in fluent but broken English, assuring the Committee that everything was being done after the approved city fashion.

Mr. Cohenlupe would make a little speech in fluent but broken English, assuring the Committee that everything was being done in the approved city fashion.


Sir Felix, after the first two meetings, was never there.


And thus Paul Montague, with a sorely burdened conscience, was carried along as one of the Directors of the Great South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway Company.

And thus Paul Montague, with a sorely burdened conscience, was carried along.


I do not know whether the burden was made lighter to him or heavier, by the fact that the immediate pecuniary result was certainly very comfortable.

I do not know whether the burden was made lighter to him, or heavier, by the fact that the immediate financial result was certainly very comfortable.


The Company had not yet been in existence quite six weeks,--or at any rate Melmotte had not been connected with it above that time,--and it had already been suggested to him twice that he should sell fifty shares at 112 10_s_.

The Company had only existed six weeks, and it had already been suggested to him twice that he should sell fifty shares at 112 10s.


He did not even yet know how many shares he possessed, but on both occasions he consented to the proposal, and on the following day received a cheque for 625,--that sum representing the profit over and above the original nominal price of 100 a share.

He did not even know how many shares he possessed, but on both occasions he consented, and on the following day received a cheque for 625 - representing the profit above the original price of 100 a share.


The suggestion was made to him by Miles Grendall, and when he asked some questions as to the manner in which the shares had been allocated, he was told that all that would be arranged in accordance with the capital invested and must depend on the final disposition of the Californian property.

When he asked Miles Grendall how the shares had been allocated, he was told it would be arranged in accordance with the capital invested and must depend on the final disposition of the Californian property.


"But from what we see, old fellow," said Miles, "I don't think you have anything to fear.


You seem to be about the best in of them all.


Melmotte wouldn't advise you to sell out gradually, if he didn't look upon the thing as a certain income as far as you are concerned."

Melmotte wouldn't advise you to sell out gradually, if he didn't see it as a certain income as far as you are concerned."


Paul Montague understood nothing of all this, and felt that he was standing on ground which might be blown from under his feet at any moment.


The uncertainty, and what he feared might be the dishonesty, of the whole thing, made him often very miserable.


In those wretched moments his conscience was asserting itself.


But again there were times in which he also was almost triumphant, and in which he felt the delight of his wealth.

But there were times in which he also felt the delight of his wealth.


Though he was snubbed at the Board when he wanted explanations, he received very great attention outside the board-room from those connected with the enterprise.

Though he was snubbed at the Board when he wanted explanations, outside the Board-room the Directors were attentive.


Melmotte had asked him to dine two or three times.


Mr. Cohenlupe had begged him to go down to his little place at Rickmansworth,--an entreaty with which Montague had not as yet complied.

Mr. Cohenlupe had begged him to go down to his little place at Rickmansworth.


Lord Alfred was always gracious to him, and Nidderdale and Carbury were evidently anxious to make him one of their set at the club.

Lord Alfred was gracious, and Nidderdale and Carbury were evidently anxious to make him one of their set at the Beargarden.


Many other houses became open to him from the same source.


Though Melmotte was supposed to be the inventor of the railway, it was known that Fisker, Montague, and Montague were largely concerned in it, and it was known also that Paul Montague was one of the Montagues named in that firm.


People, both in the City and the West End, seemed to think that he knew all about it, and treated him as though some of the manna falling from that heaven were at his disposition.


There were results from this which were not unpleasing to the young man.


He only partially resisted the temptation; and though determined at times to probe the affair to the bottom, was so determined only at times.


Certainly the money was very pleasant to him.


The period would now soon arrive before which he understood himself to be pledged not to make a distinct offer to Henrietta Carbury; and when that period should have been passed, it would be delightful to him to know that he was possessed of property sufficient to enable him to give a wife a comfortable home.

The time would soon arrive before which he had promised not to make an offer to Henrietta Carbury; and when it did, it would be delightful to him to know that he possessed enough property to give a wife a comfortable home.


In all his aspirations, and in all his fears, he was true to Hetta Carbury, and made her the centre of his hopes.

In all his aspirations and fears, he was true to Hetta Carbury, and made her the centre of his hopes.


Nevertheless, had Hetta known everything, it may be feared that she would have at any rate endeavoured to dismiss him from her heart.

Nevertheless, had Hetta known everything, she might have tried to dismiss him from her heart.


There was considerable uneasiness in the bosoms of others of the Directors, and a disposition to complain against the Grand Director, arising from a grievance altogether different from that which afflicted Montague.

The other Directors, however, had a grievance against Melmotte.


Neither had Sir Felix Carbury nor Lord Nidderdale been invited to sell shares, and consequently neither of them had received any remuneration for the use of their names.

Neither Sir Felix Carbury nor Lord Nidderdale had been invited to sell shares, and consequently neither of them had received any money.


They knew well that Montague had sold shares. He was quite open on the subject, and had told Felix, whom he hoped some day to regard as his brother-in-law, exactly what shares he had sold, and for how much;--and the two men had endeavoured to make the matter intelligible between themselves.

Montague had told Felix, whom he hoped some day would be his brother-in-law, exactly what shares he had sold, and for how much.


The original price of the shares being 100 each, and 12 10_s._ a share having been paid to Montague as the premium, it was to be supposed that the original capital was re-invested in other shares.

The original price of the shares being 100 each, and 12 10s. a share having been paid to Montague, it was supposed that the original capital was re-invested in other shares.


But each owned to the other that the matter was very complicated to him, and Montague could only write to Hamilton K. Fisker at San Francisco asking for explanation.

But they agreed that the matter was very complicated, and Montague wrote to Hamilton K. Fisker at San Francisco asking for an explanation.


But it was not the wealth flowing into Montague's hands which embittered Nidderdale and Carbury.


They understood that he had really brought money into the concern, and was therefore entitled to take money out of it.


Nor did it occur to them to grudge Melmotte his more noble pickings, for they knew how great a man was Melmotte. Of Cohenlupe's doings they heard nothing; but he was a regular city man, and had probably supplied funds.

Nor did it occur to them to grudge Melmotte his pickings, and of Cohenlupe's doings they heard nothing.


Cohenlupe was too deep for their inquiry.


But they knew that Lord Alfred had sold shares, and had received the profit; and they knew also how utterly impossible it was that Lord Alfred should have produced capital.

But they knew that Lord Alfred had sold shares, and had received the profit; and they knew how utterly impossible it was that Lord Alfred should have produced capital.


If Lord Alfred Grendall was entitled to plunder, why were not they?


And if their day for plunder had not yet come, why had Lord Alfred's?


And if there was so much cause to fear Lord Alfred that it was necessary to throw him a bone, why should not they also make themselves feared?


Lord Alfred passed all his time with Melmotte,--had, as these young men said, become Melmotte's head valet,--and therefore had to be paid.


But that reason did not satisfy the young men.


"You haven't sold any shares;--have you?"

"You haven't sold any shares, have you?"


This question Sir Felix asked Lord Nidderdale at the club.


Nidderdale was constant in his attendance at the Board, and Felix was not a little afraid that he might be jockied also by him.


As far as money is concerned my only transaction has been my part of the expense of Fisker's dinner."


"What do you get then, by going into the city?"


I suppose something will turn up some day."


"In the meantime, you know, there are our names. And Grendall is making a fortune out of it."

"In the meantime, you know, Grendall is making a fortune out of it."


"If he's doing so well, I think Miles ought to be made to pay up something of what he owes.

"If he's doing so well, I think Miles ought to pay up something of what he owes.


I think we ought to tell him that we shall expect him to have the money ready when that bill of Vossner's comes round."


"Not that it will be the least good," said Nidderdale.


It would be quite unnatural to him to pay anything."


"Fellows used to pay their gambling debts," said Sir Felix, who was still in funds, and who still held a considerable assortment of I. O. U.'s.

"Fellows used to pay their gambling debts," said Sir Felix, who still held a considerable assortment of I.O.U.'s.


How did a fellow manage before, if he hadn't got it?"
"He went smash," said Sir Felix, "and disappeared and was never heard of any more.

"Otherwise a fellow went smash, and disappeared and was never heard of any more.


It was just the same as if he'd been found cheating.

It was just the same if he was found cheating.


I believe a fellow might cheat now and nobody'd say anything!"


"What's the use of being beastly ill-natured?


I'm not very good at saying my prayers, but I do think there's something in that bit about forgiving people.


Of course cheating isn't very nice: and it isn't very nice for a fellow to play when he knows he can't pay; but I don't know that it's worse than getting drunk like Dolly Longestaffe, or quarrelling with everybody as Grasslough does,--or trying to marry some poor devil of a girl merely because she's got money.


I believe in living in glass houses, but I don't believe in throwing stones.


Well;--yes;--no;--that is, I suppose, I used to do."


"I often think I shouldn't have been the first to pick up a stone and pitch it at that woman.


"But you agree that we ought to do something about these shares?"


said Sir Felix, thinking that this doctrine of forgiveness might be carried too far.


I'll let old Grendall live with all my heart; but then he ought to let me live too.


"It's no good our going to old Grendall," said Lord Nidderdale, who had some understanding in the matter, "nor yet to young Grendall.

It's no good our going to old Grendall," said Lord Nidderdale.


The one would only grunt and say nothing, and the other would tell every lie that came into his head.


The cat in this matter I take to be our great master, Augustus Melmotte."

"We should go to our master, Augustus Melmotte."


This little meeting occurred on the day after Felix Carbury's return from Suffolk, and at a time at which, as we know, it was the great duty of his life to get the consent of old Melmotte to his marriage with Marie Melmotte.

This meeting occurred on the day after Felix Carbury's return from Suffolk, when it was the great duty of his life to get Melmotte's consent to his marriage with Marie.


In doing that he would have to put one bell on the cat, and he thought that for the present that was sufficient.


In his heart of hearts he was afraid of Melmotte.


But then, as he knew very well, Nidderdale was intent on the same object.


Nidderdale, he thought, was a very queer fellow.


That talking about the Bible, and the forgiving of trespasses, was very queer; and that allusion to the marrying of heiresses very queer indeed.


He knew that Nidderdale wanted to marry the heiress, and Nidderdale must also know that he wanted to marry her.


And yet Nidderdale was indelicate enough to talk about it!


And now the man asked who should bell the cat!


"You go there oftener than I do, and perhaps you could do it best," said Sir Felix.
"Go where?"
"To the Board."

"You go to the Board oftener than I do, and perhaps you could do it best," said Sir Felix.


He'd be civil to me, perhaps, because I'm a lord: but then, for the same reason, he'd think I was the bigger fool of the two."

He'd be civil to me, perhaps, because I'm a lord: but for the same reason, he'd think I was a bigger fool."


"I don't see that at all," said Sir Felix.


"I ain't afraid of him, if you mean that," continued Lord Nidderdale.

"I ain't afraid of him," continued Lord Nidderdale.


"He's a wretched old reprobate, and I don't doubt but he'd skin you and me if he could make money off our carcasses. But as he can't skin me, I'll have a shy at him.

"He's a wretched old reprobate, but I'll have a go at him.


On the whole I think he rather likes me, because I've always been on the square with him.

On the whole I think he rather likes me, because I've always been square with him.


If it depended on him, you know, I should have the girl to-morrow."

If it depended on him, you know, I should have the girl tomorrow."


Sir Felix did not at all mean to doubt his friend's assertion, but felt it hard to answer so very strange a statement.


"But then she don't want me, and I ain't quite sure that I want her.

"But she don't want me, and I ain't quite sure that I want her.


Where the devil would a fellow find himself if the money wasn't all there?"

Where the devil would a fellow find himself if the money wasn't there?"


Lord Nidderdale then sauntered away, leaving the baronet in a deep study of thought as to such a condition of things as that which his lordship had suggested.

Lord Nidderdale then sauntered away, leaving the baronet deep in thought.


Where the--mischief would he, Sir Felix Carbury, be, if he were to marry the girl, and then to find that the money was not all there?

Where would he, Sir Felix Carbury, be, if he were to marry the girl, and then find that the money was not there?