When I had dropped into t'other fellow, of course she made her choice.

When I dropped into t'other fellow, of course she made her choice.


It was me as was to blame, because I didn't do it before.


I ought to ha' dropped into him when I first heard as he was arter her.


So, squoire, I'm just going again to Lon'on right away."

So, squoire, I'm going again to Lon'on right away."


Roger suggested that old Ruggles would, of course, receive his niece; but as to this John expressed his supreme indifference.


Of course he would like to have the old man's money; but the old man couldn't live for ever, and he supposed that things would come right in time.


But this he knew,--that he wasn't going to cringe to the old man about his money.


When Roger observed that it would be better that Ruby should have some home to which she might at once return, John adverted with a renewed grin to all the substantial comforts of his own house.

When Roger observed that it would be better that Ruby should have some home to which she might at once return, John listed with a renewed grin all the comforts of his own house.


It seemed to be his idea, that on arriving in London he would at once take Ruby away to church and be married to her out of hand.

It seemed to be his idea that on arriving in London he would at once take Ruby to church and be married out of hand.


He had thrashed his rival, and what cause could there now be for delay?


But before he left the field he made one other speech to the squire.

But before he left the field he made one speech about Sir Felix.


"You ain't a'taken it amiss, squoire, 'cause he was coosin to yourself?"

"You ain't a'taken it amiss, squoire, 'cause he was your coosin?"


I ain't a done the yong man a ha'porth o' harm, and I don't feel no grudge again him, and when me and Ruby's once spliced, I'm darned if I don't give 'un a bottle of wine the first day as he'll come to Bungay."

I ain't a done the yong man no harm, and I don't feel no grudge again him."


Roger did not feel himself justified in accepting this invitation on the part of Sir Felix; but he renewed his assurance that he, on his own part, thought that Crumb had behaved well in that matter of the street encounter, and he expressed a strong wish for the immediate and continued happiness of Mr. and Mrs. John Crumb.

Roger assured him that he thought that Crumb had behaved well in that encounter, and he expressed a strong wish for the happiness of Mr. and Mrs. John Crumb.


"Oh, ay, we'll be 'appy, squoire," said Crumb as he went exulting out of the field.

"Oh, ay, we'll be 'appy, squoire," said Crumb, as he went exulting out of the field.


On the day after this Roger Carbury received a letter which disturbed him very much, and to which he hardly knew whether to return any answer, or what answer.

On the day after this Roger Carbury received a letter which disturbed him very much.


It was from Paul Montague, and was written by him but a few hours after he had left his letter for Hetta with his own hands, at the door of her mother's house.

It was from Paul Montague, written a few hours after he had left his letter for Hetta.


Paul's letter to Roger was as follows:--


Though I know that you have cast me off from you I cannot write to you in any other way, as any other way would be untrue.

Though I know that you have cast me off I cannot write to you in any other way.


You can answer me, of course, as you please, but I do think that you will owe me an answer, as I appeal to you in the name of justice.


You know what has taken place between Hetta and myself.


She had accepted me, and therefore I am justified in feeling sure that she must have loved me.

She had accepted me, and therefore I feel sure that she must have loved me.


But she has now quarrelled with me altogether, and has told me that I am never to see her again.


Of course I don't mean to put up with this.


You will say that it is no business of yours.


But I think that you would not wish that she should be left under a false impression, if you could put her right.


Somebody has told her the story of Mrs. Hurtle.


I suppose it was Felix, and that he had learned it from those people at Islington.


But she has been told that which is untrue.


Nobody knows and nobody can know the truth as you do.


She supposes that I have willingly been passing my time with Mrs. Hurtle during the last two months, although during that very time I have asked for and have received the assurance of her love.

She supposes that I have willingly been passing my time with Mrs. Hurtle during the last two months.


Now, whether or no I have been to blame about Mrs. Hurtle,--as to which nothing at present need be said,--it is certainly the truth that her coming to England was not only not desired by me, but was felt by me to be the greatest possible misfortune.

Now, whether or no I have been to blame about Mrs. Hurtle, her coming to England was not desired by me; I felt it to be the greatest possible misfortune.


But after all that had passed I certainly owed it to her not to neglect her;--and this duty was the more incumbent on me as she was a foreigner and unknown to any one.

But I owed it to her not to neglect her, as she was a foreigner unknown to anyone.


I went down to Lowestoft with her at her request, having named the place to her as one known to myself, and because I could not refuse her so small a favour.

I went to Lowestoft with her at her request, because I could not refuse her so small a favour.


You know that it was so, and you know also, as no one else does, that whatever courtesy I have shown to Mrs. Hurtle in England, I have been constrained to show her.

You know that it was so, and you know also that whatever courtesy I have shown to Mrs. Hurtle in England, I have been forced to show her.


I appeal to you to let Hetta know that this is true.


She had made me understand that not only her mother and brother, but you also, are well acquainted with the story of my acquaintance with Mrs. Hurtle.


Neither Lady Carbury nor Sir Felix has ever known anything about it.


You, and you only, have known the truth.


And now, though at the present you are angry with me, I call upon you to tell Hetta the truth as you know it.

Though you are angry with me, I appeal to you to tell Hetta the truth as you know it.


You will understand me when I say that I feel that I am being destroyed by a false representation.


I think that you, who abhor a falsehood, will see the justice of setting me right, at any rate as far as the truth can do so.

I think that you, who abhor a falsehood, will see the justice of telling her the truth.


I do not want you to say a word for me beyond that.


This, of course, was the first feeling produced in Roger's mind by Montague's letter.


If Hetta had received any false impression, it had not come from him.


He had told no stories against his rival, whether true or false.

He had told no stories against his rival, true or false.


He had been so scrupulous that he had refused to say a word at all.


And if any false impression had been made on Hetta's mind, either by circumstances or by untrue words, had not Montague deserved any evil that might fall upon him?

And had not Montague deserved any evil that might fall upon him?


Though every word in Montague's letter might be true, nevertheless, in the end, no more than justice would be done him, even should he be robbed at last of his mistress under erroneous impressions.

It would be no more than justice if he were robbed at last of his love.


The fact that he had once disgraced himself by offering to make Mrs. Hurtle his wife, rendered him unworthy of Hetta Carbury.

The fact that he had once disgraced himself by offering to make Mrs. Hurtle his wife rendered him unworthy of Hetta Carbury.


Such, at least, was Roger Carbury's verdict as he thought over all the circumstances.


At any rate, it was no business of his to correct these wrong impressions.


And yet he was ill at ease as he thought of it all.


He did believe that every word in Montague's letter was true.


Though he had been very indignant when he met Paul and Mrs. Hurtle together on the sands at Lowestoft, he was perfectly convinced that the cause of their coming there had been precisely that which Montague had stated.


It took him two days to think over all this, two days of great discomfort and unhappiness.


After all, why should he be a dog in the manger?


The girl did not care for him,--looked upon him as an old man to be regarded in a fashion altogether different from that in which she regarded Paul Montague.

The girl did not care for him; she looked upon him as an old man.


He had let his time for love-making go by, and now it behoved him, as a man, to take the world as he found it, and not to lose himself in regrets for a kind of happiness which he could never attain.

He had let his time for love-making go by, and he ought not to lose himself in regrets for a happiness which he could never attain.


In such an emergency as this he should do what was fair and honest, without reference to his own feelings.


And yet the passion which dominated John Crumb altogether, which made the mealman so intent on the attainment of his object as to render all other things indifferent to him for the time, was equally strong with Roger Carbury.

And yet the passion which dominated John Crumb was equally strong with Roger Carbury.


Unfortunately for Roger, strong as his passion was, it was embarrassed by other feelings.


It never occurred to Crumb to think whether he was a fit husband for Ruby, or whether Ruby, having a decided preference for another man, could be a fit wife for him.


But with Roger there were a thousand surrounding difficulties to hamper him.


John Crumb never doubted for a moment what he should do.


He had to get the girl, if possible, and he meant to get her whatever she might cost him.


He was always confident though sometimes perplexed.


He knew that he should never win the game.

, he knew that he would never win the game.


In his sadder moments he felt that he ought not to win it.


The people around him, from old fashion, still called him the young squire!


Why;--he felt himself at times to be eighty years old,--so old that he was unfitted for intercourse with such juvenile spirits as those of his neighbour the bishop, and of his friend Hepworth.

Why, he felt himself at times to be eighty years old.


Could he, by any training, bring himself to take her happiness in hand, altogether sacrificing his own?

Could he bring himself to take her happiness in hand, altogether sacrificing his own?


In such a mood as this he did at last answer his enemy's letter,--and he answered it as follows:--

In such a mood he did at last answer his enemy's letter, as follows:


I do not know that I am concerned to meddle in your affairs at all.


I have told no tale against you, and I do not know that I have any that I wish to tell in your favour, or that I could so tell if I did wish.

I have told no tale against you, and I do not have any that I wish to tell in your favour.


I think that you have behaved badly to me, cruelly to Mrs. Hurtle, and disrespectfully to my cousin.


Nevertheless, as you appeal to me on a certain point for evidence which I can give, and which you say no one else can give, I do acknowledge that, in my opinion, Mrs. Hurtle's presence in England has not been in accordance with your wishes, and that you accompanied her to Lowestoft, not as her lover but as an old friend whom you could not neglect.

Nevertheless, as you appeal to me on a certain point for evidence which I can give, I do acknowledge that, in my opinion, Mrs. Hurtle's presence in England has not been in accordance with your wishes, and that you accompanied her to Lowestoft, not as her lover but as an old friend whom you could not neglect.


You are at liberty to show this letter to Miss Carbury, if you please; but if she reads part she should read the whole!


There was more perhaps of hostility in this letter than of that spirit of self-sacrifice to which Roger intended to train himself; and so he himself felt after the letter had been dispatched.

There was perhaps more hostility in this letter than the self-sacrifice Roger had intended; and so he felt after the letter had been sent.


Melmotte had been found dead on Friday morning, and late on the evening of the same day Madame Melmotte and Marie were removed to lodgings far away from the scene of the tragedy, up at Hampstead.

Melmotte had been found dead on Friday morning, and late that evening Madame Melmotte and Marie were moved to lodgings far away up at Hampstead.


Herr Croll had known of the place, and at Lord Nidderdale's instance had busied himself in the matter, and had seen that the rooms were made instantly ready for the widow of his late employer.

Herr Croll had known of the place, and at Lord Nidderdale's request had seen that the rooms were instantly made ready.


Nidderdale himself had assisted them in their departure; and the German, with the poor woman's maid, with the jewels also, which had been packed according to Melmotte's last orders to his wife, followed the carriage which took the mother and the daughter.

Nidderdale himself had helped them depart.


They did not start till nine o'clock in the evening, and Madame Melmotte at the moment would fain have been allowed to rest one other night in Bruton Street.

They did not go till nine o'clock in the evening, and Madame Melmotte would fain have stayed one more night in Bruton Street.


But Lord Nidderdale, with one hardly uttered word, made Marie understand that the inquest would be held early on the following morning, and Marie was imperious with her mother and carried her point.


So the poor woman was taken away from Mr. Longestaffe's residence, and never again saw the grandeur of her own house in Grosvenor Square, which she had not visited since the night on which she had helped to entertain the Emperor of China.


On Saturday morning the inquest was held.


There was not the slightest doubt as to any one of the incidents of the catastrophe.


The servants, the doctor, and the inspector of police between them, learned that he had come home alone, that nobody had been near him during the night, that he had been found dead, and that he had undoubtedly been poisoned by prussic acid.

The servants, the doctor, and the police inspector agreed that Melmotte had come home alone, that nobody had been near him during the night, and that he had been found dead, poisoned by prussic acid.


It was also proved that he had been drunk in the House of Commons, a fact to which one of the clerks of the House, very much against his will, was called upon to testify.


That he had destroyed himself there was no doubt,--nor was there any doubt as to the cause.

There was no doubt that he had destroyed himself - nor as to the cause.


In such cases as this it is for the jury to say whether the unfortunate one who has found his life too hard for endurance, and has rushed away to see whether he could not find an improved condition of things elsewhere, has or has not been mad at the moment.

In such cases it is for the jury to say whether the unfortunate one has been mad at the time.


Surviving friends are of course anxious for a verdict of insanity, as in that case no further punishment is exacted.

Surviving friends are of course anxious for a verdict of insanity, so that


The body can be buried like any other body, and it can always be said afterwards that the poor man was mad.

the body can be buried like any other body, and it can always be said afterwards that the poor man was mad.


Perhaps it would be well that all suicides should be said to have been mad, for certainly the jurymen are not generally guided in their verdicts by any accurately ascertained facts.


If the poor wretch has, up to his last days, been apparently living a decent life; if he be not hated, or has not in his last moments made himself specially obnoxious to the world at large, then he is declared to have been mad.


Who would be heavy on a poor clergyman who has been at last driven by horrid doubts to rid himself of a difficulty from which he saw no escape in any other way?


Who would not give the benefit of the doubt to the poor woman whose lover and lord had deserted her?


Who would remit to unhallowed earth the body of the once beneficent philosopher who has simply thought that he might as well go now, finding himself powerless to do further good upon earth?


Such, and such like, have of course been temporarily insane, though no touch even of strangeness may have marked their conduct up to their last known dealings with their fellow-mortals.


But let a Melmotte be found dead, with a bottle of prussic acid by his side--a man who has become horrid to the world because of his late iniquities, a man who has so well pretended to be rich that he has been able to buy and to sell properties without paying for them, a wretch who has made himself odious by his ruin to friends who had taken him up as a pillar of strength in regard to wealth, a brute who had got into the House of Commons by false pretences, and had disgraced the House by being drunk there,--and, of course, he will not be saved by a verdict of insanity from the cross roads, or whatever scornful grave may be allowed to those who have killed themselves, with their wits about them.

But let a Melmotte be found dead - a man who has become horrid to the world, a man who has pretended to be rich, a brute who has got into the House of Commons by false pretences, and has disgraced the House by being drunk there - he will not be saved by a verdict of insanity.


Just at this moment there was a very strong feeling against Melmotte, owing perhaps as much to his having tumbled over poor Mr. Beauclerk in the House of Commons as to the stories of the forgeries he had committed, and the virtue of the day vindicated itself by declaring him to have been responsible for his actions when he took the poison.

There was a very strong feeling against Melmotte, and he was declared to have been responsible for his actions when he took the poison.


He was _felo de se_, and therefore carried away to the cross roads--or elsewhere.


But it may be imagined, I think, that during that night he may have become as mad as any other wretch, have been driven as far beyond his powers of endurance as any other poor creature who ever at any time felt himself constrained to go.

All the same, I think that during that night he may have become as mad as any other wretch driven beyond his powers of endurance.


He had not been so drunk but that he knew all that happened, and could foresee pretty well what would happen.

He could foresee pretty well what would happen.


The summons to attend upon the Lord Mayor had been served upon him.


There were some, among them Croll and Mr. Brehgert, who absolutely knew that he had committed forgery.


He had no money for the Longestaffes, and he was well aware what Squercum would do at once.

; he had no money for the Longestaffes, and was well aware what Squercum would do.


He had assured himself long ago,--he had assured himself indeed not very long ago,--that he would brave it all like a man.

Although he had assured himself that he would bear it all like a man,


But we none of us know what load we can bear, and what would break our backs.


Melmotte's back had been so utterly crushed that I almost think that he was mad enough to have justified a verdict of temporary insanity.


But he was carried away, no one knew whither, and for a week his name was hateful.

His body was carried away, and for a week his name was hateful.


But after that, a certain amount of whitewashing took place, and, in some degree, a restitution of fame was made to the manes of the departed.

But after that, there was a certain amount of whitewashing.


Westminster, which had adopted him, never forgave him.


But in other districts it came to be said of him that he had been more sinned against than sinning; and that, but for the jealousy of the old stagers in the mercantile world, he would have done very wonderful things.


Marylebone, which is always merciful, took him up quite with affection, and would have returned his ghost to Parliament could his ghost have paid for committee rooms.

Marylebone took him up quite with affection,


Finsbury delighted for a while to talk of the great Financier, and even Chelsea thought that he had been done to death by ungenerous tongues.

while Finsbury delighted to talk of the great Financier, and even Chelsea thought that he had been done to death by unkind tongues.


It was, however, Marylebone alone that spoke of a monument.


Mr. Longestaffe came back to his house, taking formal possession of it a few days after the verdict.

Mr. Longestaffe came back to his house alone.


There had been no further question of bringing the ladies of the family up to town; and Dolly altogether declined to share with his father the honour of encountering the dead man's spirit.


But there was very much for Mr. Longestaffe to do, and very much also for his son.

There was much for both him and Dolly to do,


It was becoming a question with both of them how far they had been ruined by their connection with the horrible man.

in working out how far they had been ruined.


It was clear that they could not get back the title-deeds of the Pickering property without paying the amount which had been advanced upon them, and it was equally clear that they could not pay that sum unless they were enabled to do so by funds coming out of the Melmotte estate.

They could not get back the title-deeds of the Pickering property without paying the amount which had been advanced upon them, and they could not pay that sum unless they were enabled to do so by funds coming out of the Melmotte estate.


Dolly, as he sat smoking upon the stool in Mr. Squercum's office, where he now passed a considerable portion of his time, looked upon himself as a miracle of ill-usage.

Dolly, as he sat smoking in Mr. Squercum's office, said,


"By George, you know, I shall have to go to law with the governor.


There's nothing else for it; is there, Squercum?"


Squercum suggested that they had better wait till they found what pickings there might be out of the Melmotte estate.

Squercum suggested that they had better wait till they found what pickings there might be from the Melmotte estate.


He had made inquiries too about that, and had been assured that there must be property, but property so involved and tied up as to make it impossible to lay hands upon it suddenly.


"They say that the things in the square, and the plate, and the carriages and horses, and all that, ought to fetch between twenty and thirty thousand.

"They say that the furnishings, and the silver plate, and carriages and horses, and all that, ought to fetch between twenty and thirty thousand.


There were a lot of jewels, but the women have taken them," said Squercum.

There were a lot of jewels, but the women have taken them."


"By George, they ought to be made to give up everything."


Did you ever hear of such a thing;--the very house pulled down;--my house; and all done without a word from me in the matter?


I don't suppose such a thing was ever known before, since properties were properties."


Then he uttered sundry threats against the Bideawhiles, in reference to whom he declared his intention of "making it very hot for them."

Then Dolly uttered threats against the Bideawhiles, declaring he would "make it very hot for them."


It was an annoyance added to the elder Mr. Longestaffe that the management of Melmotte's affairs fell at last almost exclusively into the hands of Mr. Brehgert.

It was an added annoyance to the elder Mr. Longestaffe that the management of Melmotte's estate fell at last into the hands of Mr. Brehgert.


Now Brehgert, in spite of his many dealings with Melmotte, was an honest man, and, which was perhaps of as much immediate consequence, both an energetic and a patient man.

Now Brehgert, in spite of his many dealings with Melmotte, was an honest man, and also energetic and patient.


But then he was the man who had wanted to marry Georgiana Longestaffe, and he was the man to whom Mr. Longestaffe had been particularly uncivil.

But he was the man who had wanted to marry Georgiana Longestaffe, and to whom Mr. Longestaffe had been particularly uncivil.


Then there arose necessities for the presence of Mr. Brehgert in the house in which Melmotte had lately lived and had died.


The dead man's papers were still there,--deeds, documents, and such letters as he had not chosen to destroy;--and these could not be removed quite at once.

, for the dead man's papers were still there - those that he had not destroyed - and could not yet be removed.


"Mr. Brehgert must of course have access to my private room, as long as it is necessary,--absolutely necessary," said Mr. Longestaffe in answer to a message which was brought to him; "but he will of course see the expediency of relieving me from such intrusion as soon as possible."

"Mr. Brehgert must of course have access to my private room, if it is absolutely necessary," said Mr. Longestaffe; "but he will relieve me from such intrusion as soon as possible."


But he soon found it preferable to come to terms with the rejected suitor, especially as the man was singularly good-natured and forbearing after the injuries he had received.

However, he soon found it preferable to come to terms with the rejected suitor, especially as the man was singularly good-natured after the injuries he had received.


All minor debts were to be paid at once; an arrangement to which Mr. Longestaffe cordially agreed, as it included a sum of 300 due to him for the rent of his house in Bruton Street.

All minor debts were to be paid at once; an arrangement to which Mr. Longestaffe agreed, as it included a sum of 300 due to him for the rent of the house in Bruton Street.


Then by degrees it became known that there would certainly be a dividend of not less than fifty per cent.

Then it became known that there would certainly be a dividend of at least fifty per cent


payable on debts which could be proved to have been owing by Melmotte, and perhaps of more;--an arrangement which was very comfortable to Dolly, as it had been already agreed between all the parties interested that the debt due to him should be satisfied before the father took anything.

payable on debts which had been owing by Melmotte; an arrangement which was very comfortable to Dolly.


Mr. Longestaffe resolved during these weeks that he remained in town that, as regarded himself and his own family, the house in London should not only not be kept up, but that it should be absolutely sold, with all its belongings, and that the servants at Caversham should be reduced in number, and should cease to wear powder.

Mr. Longestaffe resolved during these weeks that his house in London should be sold, with all its belongings, and that the servants at Caversham should be reduced in number.


All this was communicated to Lady Pomona in a very long letter, which she was instructed to read to her daughters.


"I have suffered great wrongs," said Mr. Longestaffe, "but I must submit to them, and as I submit so must my wife and children.

"I have suffered great wrongs," wrote Mr. Longestaffe, "but I must submit to them, and as I submit so must my wife and children.


If our son were different from what he is the sacrifice might probably be made lighter.


His nature I cannot alter, but from my daughters I expect cheerful obedience."

From my daughters I expect cheerful obedience."


From what incidents of his past life he was led to expect cheerfulness at Caversham it might be difficult to say; but the obedience was there.

Exactly what led him to expect cheerfulness at Caversham it is difficult to say; but the obedience was there.


Georgey was for the time broken down; Sophia was satisfied with her nuptial prospects, and Lady Pomona had certainly no spirits left for a combat.

Georgey was for the time broken down, while Sophia was satisfied with her nuptial prospects.


I think the loss of the hair-powder afflicted her most; but she said not a word even about that.


But in all this the details necessary for the telling of our story are anticipated.


Mr. Longestaffe had remained in London actually over the 1st of September, which in Suffolk is the one great festival of the year, before the letter was written to which allusion has been made.

While Mr. Longestaffe remained in London,


In the meantime he saw much of Mr. Brehgert, and absolutely formed a kind of friendship for that gentleman, in spite of the abomination of his religion,--so that on one occasion he even condescended to ask Mr. Brehgert to dine alone with him in Bruton Street.

he saw much of Mr. Brehgert, and formed a kind of friendship with that gentleman, in spite of the abomination of his religion. He once even asked Mr. Brehgert to dine with him in Bruton Street.


This, too, was in the early days of the arrangement of the Melmotte affairs, when Mr. Longestaffe's heart had been softened by that arrangement with reference to the rent.


Mr. Brehgert came, and there arose a somewhat singular conversation between the two gentlemen as they sat together over a bottle of Mr. Longestaffe's old port wine.

Mr. Brehgert came, and there was a somewhat singular conversation between the two gentlemen as they sat together over a bottle of Mr. Longestaffe's old port wine.


Hitherto not a word had passed between them respecting the connection which had once been proposed, since the day on which the young lady's father had said so many bitter things to the expectant bridegroom.

Until then not a word had passed between them about the engagement with Georgiana, since the day on which her father had said so many bitter things to the expectant bridegroom.


But in this evening Mr. Brehgert, who was by no means a coward in such matters and whose feelings were not perhaps painfully fine, spoke his mind in a way that at first startled Mr. Longestaffe.

But this evening Mr. Brehgert spoke his mind in a way that at first startled Mr. Longestaffe.


The subject was introduced by a reference which Brehgert had made to his own affairs.

The subject was introduced by a reference which Brehgert made to his own affairs.


His loss would be, at any rate, double that which Mr. Longestaffe would have to bear;--but he spoke of it in an easy way, as though it did not sit very near his heart.

His loss would be double Mr. Longestaffe's; but he spoke of it in an easy way, as though it did not sit very near his heart.


"Of course there's a difference between me and you," he said.


Mr. Longestaffe bowed his head graciously, as much as to say that there was of course a very wide difference.

Mr. Longestaffe bowed his head graciously.


"In our affairs," continued Brehgert, "we expect gains, and of course look for occasional losses.


When a gentleman in your position sells a property he expects to get the purchase-money."


"I can't even yet quite understand how it was with him, or why he took upon himself to spend such an enormous deal of money here in London.

"I can't even yet quite understand why he decided to spend such an enormous deal of money here in London.


His business was quite irregular, but there was very much of it, and some of it immensely profitable.


"It was old Mr. Todd that first took to him;--but I was deceived as much as Todd, and then I ventured on a speculation with him outside of our house.

"I ventured on a speculation with him; and


The long and the short of it is that I shall lose something about sixty thousand pounds."

the long and the short of it is that I shall lose about sixty thousand pounds."


"Very large;--so large as to affect my daily mode of life.

"Very large; so large as to affect my daily mode of life.


In my correspondence with your daughter, I considered it to be my duty to point out to her that it would be so.

In my correspondence with your daughter, I considered it my duty to point out to her that it would be so.


This reference to his daughter for the moment altogether upset Mr. Longestaffe.

This indelicate reference to his daughter altogether upset Mr. Longestaffe.


The reference was certainly most indelicate, most deserving of censure; but Mr. Longestaffe did not know how to pronounce his censure on the spur of the moment, and was moreover at the present time so very anxious for Brehgert's assistance in the arrangement of his affairs that, so to say, he could not afford to quarrel with the man.

He was so anxious for Brehgert's assistance that he could not afford to quarrel with the man.


But he assumed something more than his normal dignity as he asserted that his daughter had never mentioned the fact.

But he assumed more than his normal dignity as he said that his daughter had never mentioned the fact.


"No doubt;"--and Mr. Longestaffe assumed a great deal of dignity.


I had promised your daughter when she was good enough to listen to the proposition which I made to her, that I would maintain a second house when we should be married."

I had promised your daughter that I would maintain a second house when we should be married."


"It was impossible," said Mr. Longestaffe,--meaning to assert that such hymeneals were altogether unnatural and out of the question.

"It was impossible," said Mr. Longestaffe - meaning the marriage.


"It would have been quite possible as things were when that proposition was made.

"It would have been quite possible as things were when I proposed.


But looking forward to the loss which I afterwards anticipated from the affairs of our deceased friend, I found it to be prudent to relinquish my intention for the present, and I thought myself bound to inform Miss Longestaffe."

But on looking forward to the loss which I anticipated, I found it best to relinquish my intention for the present, and I thought myself bound to inform Miss Longestaffe."


"There were other reasons," muttered Mr. Longestaffe, in a suppressed voice, almost in a whisper,--in a whisper which was intended to convey a sense of present horror and a desire for future reticence.

"There were other reasons," muttered Mr. Longestaffe, in a suppressed whisper.


"There may have been; but in the last letter which Miss Longestaffe did me the honour to write to me,--a letter with which I have not the slightest right to find any fault,--she seemed to me to confine herself almost exclusively to that reason."

"There may have been; but in the last letter which Miss Longestaffe did me the honour to write to me, she seemed to confine herself almost exclusively to that reason."


"Why mention this now, Mr. Brehgert; why mention this now?


"Just because it is not painful to me, Mr. Longestaffe; and because I wish that all they who have heard of the matter should know that it is not painful.

"Because it is not painful to me, Mr. Longestaffe; and because I wish everyone to know that it is not painful.


I think that throughout I behaved like a gentleman."

I think that throughout I behaved like a gentleman and an honest man."


Mr. Longestaffe, in an agony, first shook his head twice, and then bowed it three times, leaving the Jew to take what answer he could from so dubious an oracle.

Mr. Longestaffe, in an agony, first shook his head twice, and then nodded three times.


"I am sure," continued Brehgert, "that I behaved like an honest man; and I didn't quite like that the matter should be passed over as if I was in any way ashamed of myself."


"Perhaps on so delicate a subject the less said the soonest mended."


"I've nothing more to say, and I've nothing at all to mend."

"I've nothing more to say, and I've nothing to mend."


Finishing the conversation with this little speech Brehgert arose to take his leave, making some promise at the time that he would use all the expedition in his power to complete the arrangement of the Melmotte affairs.

With this little speech Brehgert arose to take his leave, promising to do all in his power to complete the arrangement of the Melmotte affairs.


As soon as he was gone Mr. Longestaffe opened the door and walked about the room and blew out long puffs of breath, as though to cleanse himself from the impurities of his late contact.

As soon as he was gone Mr. Longestaffe walked about the room and blew out long puffs of breath, as though to cleanse himself from impurities.


He told himself that he could not touch pitch and not be defiled!


How vulgar had the man been, how indelicate, how regardless of all feeling, how little grateful for the honour which Mr. Longestaffe had conferred upon him by asking him to dinner!

How vulgar had the man been, how indelicate, how little grateful for the honour which Mr. Longestaffe had shown him by asking him to dinner!


Were not all Jews necessarily an abomination?


Yet Mr. Longestaffe was aware that in the present crisis of his fortunes he could not afford to quarrel with Mr. Brehgert.

Yet Mr. Longestaffe was aware that in the present crisis he could not afford to quarrel with Mr. Brehgert.


When the Melmottes went from Caversham the house was very desolate.

When the Melmottes left Caversham the house was very desolate.


The task of entertaining these people was indeed over, and had the return to London been fixed for a certain near day, there would have been comfort at any rate among the ladies of the family.

The Longestaffe ladies would have been comforted if the date of their return to London had been fixed.


But this was so far from being the case that the Thursday and Friday passed without anything being settled, and dreadful fears began to fill the minds of Lady Pomona and Sophia Longestaffe.

But days passed, and dreadful fears began to fill the minds of Lady Pomona and Sophia Longestaffe.


Georgiana was also impatient, but she asserted boldly that treachery, such as that which her mother and sister contemplated, was impossible.

Georgiana was also impatient, but she asserted boldly that treachery was impossible.


Their father, she thought, would not dare to propose it.

Their father would not dare to propose it.


On each of these days,--three or four times daily,--hints were given and questions were asked, but without avail.

Three or four times daily, hints were given and questions were asked, but without avail.


Mr. Longestaffe would not consent to have a day fixed till he had received some particular letter, and would not even listen to the suggestion of a day.

Mr. Longestaffe would not consent to fix a day till he had received some particular letter.


"I suppose we can go at any rate on Tuesday," Georgiana said on the Friday evening.


"I don't know why you should suppose anything of the kind," the father replied.


Poor Lady Pomona was urged by her daughters to compel him to name a day; but Lady Pomona was less audacious in urging the request than her younger child, and at the same time less anxious for its completion.

Poor Lady Pomona was urged by her daughters to compel him to name a day; but Lady Pomona was less bold than Georgiana, and less anxious to go to London.


On the Sunday morning before they went to church there was a great discussion up-stairs.

On the Sunday, before church, there was a great discussion in Lady Pomona's room.


The Bishop of Elmham was going to preach at Caversham church, and the three ladies were dressed in their best London bonnets.


They were in their mother's room, having just completed the arrangements of their church-going toilet.


It was supposed that the expected letter had arrived.


Mr. Longestaffe had certainly received a dispatch from his lawyer, but had not as yet vouchsafed any reference to its contents.

Mr. Longestaffe had certainly received a message from his lawyer.


He had been more than ordinarily silent at breakfast, and,--so Sophia asserted,--more disagreeable than ever.

He had been unusually silent at breakfast, and - so Sophia asserted - more disagreeable than ever.


The question had now arisen especially in reference to their bonnets.

The question had now arisen in reference to their bonnets.


"You might as well wear them," said Lady Pomona, "for I am sure you will not be in London again this year."


"You don't mean it, mamma," said Sophia.


He looked like it when he put those papers back into his pocket.

He looked like it when he put those papers into his pocket.


"He promised, and he got us to have those horrid people because he promised."


"Well, my dear, if your father says that we can't go back, I suppose we must take his word for it.

"Well, my dear, if your father says that we can't go back to London, we must take his word for it.


What he meant I suppose was, that he would take us back if he could."

I suppose that he would take us back if he could."


Was there to be treachery not only on the part of their natural adversary, who, adversary though he was, had bound himself to terms by a treaty, but treachery also in their own camp!


Georgiana was now going to speak out plainly.


"Make him understand that we are not going to be sat upon like that.


I'll do something, if that's going to be the way of it.


If he treats me like that I'll run off with the first man that will take me, let him be who it may."

If he treats me like that I'll run off with the first man that will take me."


"Don't talk like that, Georgiana, unless you wish to kill me."


He does not care about us,--not the least,--whether we are happy or miserable; but he cares very much about the family name.

He does not care about us - not the least; but he cares about the family name.


I'll tell him that I'm not going to be a slave.


I'll marry a London tradesman before I'll stay down here."

I'll marry a London tradesman before I'll stay here."


The younger Miss Longestaffe was lost in passion at the prospect before her.


"Oh, Georgey, don't say such horrid things as that," pleaded her sister.

"Oh, Georgey, don't say such horrid things," pleaded her sister.


Dolly does just what he pleases, and spends money as fast as he likes.


Of course it makes no difference to you, mamma, where you are."


"You are very unjust," said Lady Pomona, wailing, "and you say horrid things."

"You are very unjust," wailed Lady Pomona.


How am I to see anybody down here in this horrid hole?


Papa promised and he must keep his word."


Then there came to them a loud voice calling to them from the hall.


"Are any of you coming to church, or are you going to keep the carriage waiting all day?"

"Are you coming to church, or are you going to keep the carriage waiting all day?"


Of course they were all going to church.


They always did go to church when they were at Caversham; and would more especially do so to-day, because of the bishop and because of the bonnets.

, because of the bishop and the bonnets.


They trooped down into the hall and into the carriage, Lady Pomona leading the way.


Georgiana stalked along, passing her father at the front door without condescending to look at him.

Georgiana stalking along. She passed her father at the front door without condescending to look at him.


Not a word was spoken on the way to church, or on the way home.


During the service Mr. Longestaffe stood up in the corner of his pew, and repeated the responses in a loud voice.


In performing this duty he had been an example to the parish all his life.


The three ladies knelt on their hassocks in the most becoming fashion, and sat during the sermon without the slightest sign either of weariness or of attention.

During the sermon the ladies sat without the slightest sign either of weariness or of attention.


They did not collect the meaning of any one combination of sentences.


It was nothing to them whether the bishop had or had not a meaning.

It was nothing to them what the bishop was speaking about.


Endurance of that kind was their strength.


Had the bishop preached for forty-five minutes instead of half an hour they would not have complained.


It was the same kind of endurance which enabled Georgiana to go on from year to year waiting for a husband of the proper sort.

It was the same kind of endurance which enabled Georgiana to go on from year to year waiting for a suitable husband.


She could put up with any amount of tedium if only the fair chance of obtaining ultimate relief were not denied to her.

She could put up with any amount of tedium if only the chance of obtaining ultimate relief were not denied to her.


But to be kept at Caversham all the summer would be as bad as hearing a bishop preach for ever!

But to be kept at Caversham all summer would be as bad as hearing a bishop preach for ever!


After the service they came back to lunch, and that meal also was eaten in silence.

After the service they came back to lunch, which was eaten in silence.


When it was over the head of the family put himself into the dining-room arm-chair, evidently meaning to be left alone there.

Then Mr. Longestaffe settled into the dining-room arm-chair, evidently


In that case he would have meditated upon his troubles till he went to sleep, and would have thus got through the afternoon with comfort.


The two daughters remained steadfast while the things were being removed; and Lady Pomona, though she made one attempt to leave the room, returned when she found that her daughters would not follow her.

The two daughters remained; and Lady Pomona, though she made one attempt to leave the room, returned when she found that her daughters would not follow her.


Georgiana had told her sister that she meant to "have it out" with her father, and Sophia had of course remained in the room in obedience to her sister's behest.

Georgiana had told her sister that she meant to "have it out" with her father.


When the last tray had been taken out, Georgiana began.

When the last tray had been taken out, she began.


"Papa, don't you think you could settle now when we are to go back to town?


Of course we want to know about engagements and all that.


There is Lady Monogram's party on Wednesday.


We promised to be there ever so long ago."


"You had better write to Lady Monogram and say you can't keep your engagement."

"You had better write to Lady Monogram and say you can't go."


"But, my dear, we should all like to have a day fixed," said Lady Pomona.


Even Georgiana, in her present state of mind, would have accepted some distant, even some undefined time, as a compromise.

Even Georgiana would have accepted some distant, undefined time, as a compromise.


"Then you can't have a day fixed," said Mr. Longestaffe.

"You can't have a day fixed," said Mr. Longestaffe.


"How long do you suppose that we shall be kept here?"


said Sophia, in a low constrained voice.


"I do not know what you mean by being kept here.


This is your home, and this is where you may make up your minds to live."


Georgiana stood by in silence, listening, resolving, and biding her time.

Georgiana waited in silence, biding her time.


"You'll not return to London this season," said Mr. Longestaffe, turning himself abruptly to a newspaper which he held in his hands.

"You'll not return to London this season," said Mr. Longestaffe, turning abruptly to his newspaper.


"I mean to say that that is settled," said Mr. Longestaffe.


The indignation in Georgiana's mind approached almost to virtue as she thought of her father's falseness.

Georgiana's indignation approached almost to virtue as she thought of her father's falseness.


She would not have left town at all but for that promise.


She would not have contaminated herself with the Melmottes but for that promise.


And now she was told that the promise was to be absolutely broken, when it was no longer possible that she could get back to London,--even to the house of the hated Primeros,--without absolutely running away from her father's residence!

And now the promise was to be absolutely broken!


"Then, papa," she said, with affected calmness, "you have simply and with premeditation broken your word to us."

"Then, papa," she said, with affected calmness, "you have simply and premeditatedly broken your word to us."


"How dare you speak to me in that way, you wicked child!"


"I am not a child, papa, as you know very well.


You dare to tell me, your father, that I have premeditated a falsehood!


If you tell me that again, you shall eat your meals in your own room or not eat them in this house."

If you tell me that again, you shall eat your meals in your own room."


"Did you not promise that we should go back if we would come down and entertain these people?"

"Did you not promise that we should go back if we would come here and entertain these people?"


"I will not argue with a child, insolent and disobedient as you are.

"I will not argue with an insolent child.


If I have anything to say about it, I will say it to your mother.


It should be enough for you that I, your father, tell you that you have to live here.


Now go away, and if you choose to be sullen, go and be sullen where I shan't see you."


Georgiana looked round on her mother and sister and then marched majestically out of the room.


She still meditated revenge, but she was partly cowed, and did not dare in her father's presence to go on with her reproaches.

She still meditated revenge, but she was partly cowed, and did not dare to go on with her reproaches.


She stalked off into the room in which they generally lived, and there she stood panting with anger, breathing indignation through her nostrils.

She stalked off into another room, and stood panting with anger.


[Illustration: She marched majestically out of the room.]


"And you mean to put up with it, mamma?"


I'm not going to be cheated and swindled and have my life thrown away into the bargain.

I'm not going to be cheated and swindled and have my life thrown away.


I have never run up bills without saying anything about them."


This was a cut at her elder sister, who had once got into some little trouble of that kind.


"I have never got myself talked about with any body.


If there is anything to be done I always do it.


I have written his letters for him till I have been sick, and when you were ill I never asked him to stay out with us after two or half-past two at the latest.

I have written his letters for him till I have been sick.


And now he tells me that I am to eat my meals up in my bedroom because I remind him that he distinctly promised to take us back to London!


If I do anything now he must bear the blame of it.

If I do anything now he must bear the blame.


I am not going to keep myself straight for the sake of the family, and then be treated in that way."


"You do that for your own sake, I suppose," said her sister.

"You keep straight for your own sake, I suppose," said her sister.


"It is more than you've been able to do for anybody's sake," said Georgiana, alluding to a very old affair,--to an ancient flirtation, in the course of which the elder daughter had made a foolish and a futile attempt to run away with an officer of dragoons whose private fortune was very moderate.

"It is more than you've been able to do," said Georgiana, alluding to an ancient flirtation, when Sophia had made a foolish and futile attempt to run away with an impoverished officer of dragoons.


Ten years had passed since that, and the affair was never alluded to except in moments of great bitterness.

Ten years had passed since that, and the affair was never mentioned except in moments of great bitterness.


"I've kept myself as straight as you have," said Sophia.


"It's easy enough to be straight, when a person never cares for anybody, and nobody cares for a person."

"It's easy enough when nobody cares for a person."


"My dears, if you quarrel what am I to do?"


"It is I that have to suffer," continued Georgiana.


"Does he expect me to find anybody here that I could take?

"Does he expect me to find anybody here?


Poor George Whitstable is not much; but there is nobody else at all."


"You may have him if you like," said Sophia, with a chuck of her head.

"You may have him if you like," said Sophia, with a toss of her head.


"Thank you, my dear, but I shouldn't like it at all.


"You were talking of running away with somebody."


"I shan't run away with George Whitstable; you may be sure of that.


I'll tell you what I shall do,--I will write papa a letter.


If he won't take me up to town himself, he must send me up to the Primeros.


What makes me most angry in the whole thing is that we should have condescended to be civil to the Melmottes down in the country.

What makes me most angry is that we condescended to be civil to the Melmottes.


In London one does those things, but to have them here was terrible!"


During that entire afternoon nothing more was said.

During that afternoon nothing more was said.


Not a word passed between them on any subject beyond those required by the necessities of life.


Georgiana had been as hard to her sister as to her father, and Sophia in her quiet way resented the affront.


She was now almost reconciled to the sojourn in the country, because it inflicted a fitting punishment on Georgiana, and the presence of Mr. Whitstable at a distance of not more than ten miles did of course make a difference to herself.

She was almost reconciled to staying in the country, because it inflicted a fitting punishment on Georgiana, and the presence of Mr. Whitstable only ten miles away did of course make a difference to herself.


Lady Pomona complained of a headache, which was always an excuse with her for not speaking;--and Mr. Longestaffe went to sleep.

Lady Pomona complained of a headache, and Mr. Longestaffe went to sleep.


Georgiana during the whole afternoon remained apart, and on the next morning the head of the family found the following letter on his dressing-table;--

The next morning he found the following letter on his dressing-table:


I don't think you ought to be surprised because we feel that our going up to town is so very important to us.

I don't think you ought to be surprised that our going up to town is so important to us.


If we are not to be in London at this time of the year we can never see anybody, and of course you know what that must mean for me.


If this goes on about Sophia, it does not signify for her, and, though mamma likes London, it is not of real importance.


It isn't for pleasure that I want to go up.


There isn't so very much pleasure in it.


But if I'm to be buried down here at Caversham, I might just as well be dead at once.


If you choose to give up both houses for a year, or for two years, and take us all abroad, I should not grumble in the least.

If you choose to give up both houses for a year, or two years, and take us all abroad, I should not grumble in the least.


There are very nice people to be met abroad, and perhaps things go easier that way than in town.


And there would be nothing for horses, and we could dress very cheap and wear our old things.

there would be no expense for horses, and we could dress very cheap.


But if you would only think what Caversham must be to me, without any one worth thinking about within twenty miles, you would hardly ask me to stay here.

But if you would only think what Caversham must be to me, without anyone worth thinking about within twenty miles, you would hardly ask me to stay here.


You certainly did say that if we would come down here with those Melmottes we should be taken back to town, and you cannot be surprised that we should be disappointed when we are told that we are to be kept here after that.

You certainly did say that if we came down here with those Melmottes we should be taken back to town, and you cannot be surprised that we should be disappointed.


It makes me feel that life is so hard that I can't bear it.


I see other girls having such chances when I have none, that sometimes I think I don't know what will happen to me.


This was the nearest approach which she dared to make in writing to that threat which she had uttered to her mother of running away with somebody.


I suppose that now it is useless for me to ask you to take us all back this summer,--though it was promised; but I hope you'll give me money to go up to the Primeros.

I suppose that it is useless for me to ask you to take us back this summer - though it was promised; but I hope you'll give me money to go up to the Primeros.


Julia Primero asked me to stay with them when you first talked of not going up, and I should not in the least object to reminding her, only it should be done at once.


Their house in Queen's Gate is very large, and I know they've a room.


They all ride, and I should want a horse; but there would be nothing else, as they have plenty of carriages, and the groom who rides with Julia would do for both of us.

They all ride, and I should want a horse; but there would be nothing else, as they have plenty of carriages, and Julia's groom would do for both of us.


Mr. Longestaffe did condescend to read the letter.


He, though he had rebuked his mutinous daughter with stern severity, was also to some extent afraid of her.

Though he had rebuked his mutinous daughter severely, he was somewhat afraid of her


At a sudden burst he could stand upon his authority, and assume his position with parental dignity; but not the less did he dread the wearing toil of continued domestic strife.

; and he dreaded the weariness of continued domestic strife.


He thought that upon the whole his daughter liked a row in the house.

He thought that his daughter liked a row.


If not, there surely would not be so many rows.


He had not any very lively interest in life.


He did not read much; he did not talk much; he was not specially fond of eating and drinking; he did not gamble, and he did not care for the farm.


To stand about the door and hall and public rooms of the clubs to which he belonged and hear other men talk politics or scandal, was what he liked better than anything else in the world.

To stand about the public rooms of his clubs, and hear other men talk politics or scandal, was what he liked better than anything else in the world.


But he was quite willing to give this up for the good of his family.


He would be contented to drag through long listless days at Caversham, and endeavour to nurse his property, if only his daughter would allow it.


By assuming a certain pomp in his living, which had been altogether unserviceable to himself and family, by besmearing his footmen's heads, and bewigging his coachmen, by aping, though never achieving, the grand ways of grander men than himself, he had run himself into debt.

By living with a certain useless pomp, by powdering his footmen's heads and bewigging his coachmen, by aping the ways of grander men, he had run into debt.


His own ambition had been a peerage, and he had thought that this was the way to get it.


A separate property had come to his son from his wife's mother,--some 2,000 or 3,000 a year, magnified by the world into double its amount,--and the knowledge of this had for a time reconciled him to increasing the burdens on the family estates.

A separate property had come to his son Adolphus from his wife's mother - some 2,000 or 3,000 a year - and the knowledge of this had reconciled him to increasing the burdens on the family estates.


He had been sure that Adolphus, when of age, would have consented to sell the Sussex property in order that the Suffolk property might be relieved.

He had been sure that Adolphus, when of age, would consent to sell the Sussex property to pay the debts.


But Dolly was now in debt himself, and though in other respects the most careless of men, was always on his guard in any dealings with his father.

But Dolly was now in debt himself, and though careless in most respects he was always on his guard in dealings with his father.


He would not consent to the sale of the Sussex property unless half of the proceeds were to be at once handed to himself.

He would not consent to the sale of the Sussex property unless he got half the proceeds.


The father could not bring himself to consent to this, but, while refusing it, found the troubles of the world very hard upon him.

The father found his troubles very hard upon him.


Melmotte had done something for him,--but in doing this Melmotte was very hard and tyrannical.

Melmotte had done something for him - but he had been hard and tyrannical.


Melmotte, when at Caversham, had looked into his affairs, and had told him very plainly that with such an establishment in the country he was not entitled to keep a house in town.

Melmotte, while at Caversham, had looked into his affairs, and had told him very plainly that he was not entitled to keep a house in town.


Mr. Longestaffe had then said something about his daughters,--something especially about Georgiana,--and Mr. Melmotte had made a suggestion.

Mr. Longestaffe had said something about his daughters - especially about Georgiana - and Mr. Melmotte had made a suggestion.


Mr. Longestaffe, when he read his daughter's appeal, did feel for her, in spite of his anger.


But if there was one man he hated more than another, it was his neighbour Mr. Primero; and if one woman, it was Mrs. Primero.


Primero, whom Mr. Longestaffe regarded as quite an upstart, and anything but a gentleman, owed no man anything.

regarded the Primeros as upstarts. Mr. Primero was not a gentleman. He owed no man anything.


He paid his tradesmen punctually, and never met the squire of Caversham without seeming to make a parade of his virtue in that direction.


He had spent many thousands for his party in county elections and borough elections, and was now himself member for a metropolitan district.

He had spent many thousands in county elections, and was now a Member


He was a radical, of course, or, according to Mr. Longestaffe's view of his political conduct, acted and voted on the radical side because there was nothing to be got by voting and acting on the other.

of Parliament - a radical, according to Mr. Longestaffe's views.


And now there had come into Suffolk a rumour that Mr. Primero was to have a peerage.

And now there was a rumour that Mr. Primero was to have a peerage.


To others the rumour was incredible, but Mr. Longestaffe believed it, and to Mr. Longestaffe that belief was an agony.


A Baron Bundlesham just at his door, and such a Baron Bundlesham, would be more than Mr. Longestaffe could endure.

That would be more than Mr. Longstaffe could endure.


It was quite impossible that his daughter should be entertained in London by the Primeros.

It was quite impossible that his daughter should stay in London with the Primeros.


Georgiana's letter had been laid on her father's table on the Monday morning.


On the following morning, when there could have been no intercourse with London by letter, Lady Pomona called her younger daughter to her, and handed her a note to read.

letter, Lady Pomona handed her a note, saying,


As you seem determined not to return to London this season, perhaps one of your young ladies would like to come to us.


Mrs. Melmotte would be delighted to have Miss Georgiana for June and July.


If so, she need only give Mrs. Melmotte a day's notice.


Georgiana, as soon as her eye had glanced down the one side of note paper on which this invitation was written, looked up for the date.

Georgiana, as soon as her eye had glanced over this paper, looked in vain for the date.


It was without a date, and had, she felt sure, been left in her father's hands to be used as he might think fit.

It had, she felt sure, been left in her father's hands to be used as he might think fit.


Both her father and mother had heard her speak of these Melmottes, and knew what she thought of them.

Both her father and mother knew what she thought of the Melmottes.


There was an insolence in the very suggestion.


But at the first moment she said nothing of that.


I dislike the Primeros of course, but they are not so bad as the Melmottes."


"You must judge for yourself, Georgiana."


"If papa chooses I don't know why I am to mind.


It will be awfully disagreeable,--absolutely disgusting!"

"It will be awfully disagreeable,- absolutely disgusting!"


She was quiet here because she was afraid of us.


She isn't yet used to be with people like us.


She'll get over that if I'm in the house with her.


She must have been the very sweeping of the gutters.


She could not even open her mouth, she was so ashamed of herself.


I shouldn't wonder if they turned out to be something quite horrid.


Was there ever anything so dreadful to look at as he is?"


"Everybody goes to them," said Lady Pomona.


"The Duchess of Stevenage has been there over and over again, and so has Lady Auld Reekie.

"The Duchess of Stevenage has been there over and over again."


"But everybody doesn't go and live with them.


Oh, mamma,--to have to sit down to breakfast every day for ten weeks with that man and that woman!"


"Perhaps they'll let you have your breakfast up-stairs."


"But to have to go out with them;--walking into the room after her!


"But you are so anxious to be in London, my dear."


If papa had to work half as hard as I do, I wonder what he'd think of it.

Papa does not have to work half as hard as I do.


I know it will make me so ill that I shall almost die under it.

I know it will make me ill. Horrid, horrid people!


And papa to propose it, who has always been so proud of everything,--who used to think so much of being with the right set."

And papa has always been so proud of being with the right set."


"Things are changed, Georgiana," said the anxious mother.


"Indeed they are when papa wants me to go and stay with people like that.


Why, mamma, the apothecary in Bungay is a fine gentleman compared with Mr. Melmotte, and his wife is a fine lady compared with Madame Melmotte.


If papa chooses me to be seen with such people it is not my fault.


There will be no disgracing one's self after that.


I don't believe in the least that any decent man would propose to a girl in such a house, and you and papa must not be surprised if I take some horrid creature from the Stock Exchange.

I don't believe that any decent man would propose to a girl in such a house, and you and papa must not be surprised if I take some horrid creature from the Stock Exchange.


Papa has altered his ideas; and so, I suppose, I had better alter mine."

Papa has altered his ideas; and so I had better alter mine."


Georgiana did not speak to her father that night, but Lady Pomona informed Mr. Longestaffe that Mr. Melmotte's invitation was to be accepted.

Georgiana did not speak to her father that night, but Lady Pomona informed him that Mr. Melmotte's invitation was to be accepted.


She herself would write a line to Madame Melmotte, and Georgiana would go up on the Friday following.

Georgiana would go to London on the Friday following.


"I hope she'll like it," said Mr. Longestaffe.


It was not in his nature to be severe after that fashion.


But to poor Lady Pomona the words sounded very cruel.


How could any one like to live in a house with Mr. and Madame Melmotte!


On the Friday morning there was a little conversation between the two sisters, just before Georgiana's departure to the railway station, which was almost touching.

On the Friday morning there was a little conversation between the two sisters, just before Georgiana's departure.


She had endeavoured to hold up her head as usual, but had failed.

She had tried to hold up her head, but had failed.


The thing that she was going to do cowed her even in the presence of her sister.

She was cowed even in front of her sister.


"But it was you who were so determined to be in London."


"Yes; I was determined, and am determined.


"Yes; I've got to get myself settled somehow, and that can't be done down here.


But you are not going to disgrace yourself."


But I believe the man to be a swindler and a thief; and I believe her to be anything low that you can think of.


As to their pretensions to be gentlefolk, it is monstrous."


The footmen and housemaids would be much better."


If I were to remain down here everybody would say that I was on the shelf.


You are going to marry Whitstable, and you'll do very well.


It isn't a big place, but there's no debt on it, and Whitstable himself isn't a bad sort of fellow."

Whitstable has no debt, and he isn't a bad sort of fellow.


"Of course he hasn't much to say for himself, for he's always at home.


"As for me I shall give over caring about gentlemen now.

"As for me, I shall give over caring about gentlemen now.


The first man that comes to me with four or five thousand a year, I'll take him, though he'd come out of Newgate or Bedlam.


And I shall always say it has been papa's doing."


And so Georgiana Longestaffe went up to London and stayed with the Melmottes.


How eager Lady Carbury was that her son should at once go in form to Marie's father and make his proposition may be easily understood.

Lady Carbury was eager that her son should go at once to Marie's father.


"My dear Felix," she said, standing over his bedside a little before noon, "pray don't put it off; you don't know how many slips there may be between the cup and the lip."

"My dear Felix," she said, standing over his bedside just before noon, "pray don't put it off."


"It's everything to get him in a good humour," pleaded Sir Felix.

"I need to get him in a good humour," pleaded Sir Felix.


"But the young lady will feel that she is ill-used."


"There's no fear of that; she's all right.


"I shouldn't think of dictating anything, Felix."


"Nidderdale, when he was on before, stipulated for a certain sum down; or his father did for him.

Nidderdale asked for a certain sum down,


So much cash was to be paid over before the ceremony, and it only went off because Nidderdale wanted the money to do what he liked with."

to be paid before the ceremony, and it only went off because Nidderdale wanted the money to do what he liked with."


"No;--I'd consent to that on condition that the money was paid down, and the income insured to me,--say 7,000 or 8,000 a year.

"No; I'd consent to that if the money was paid down, and the income insured to me - say 7,000 or 8,000 a year.


I wouldn't do it for less, mother; it wouldn't be worth while."


"But you have nothing left of your own."


"I've got a throat that I can cut, and brains that I can blow out," said the son, using an argument which he conceived might be efficacious with his mother; though, had she known him, she might have been sure that no man lived less likely to cut his own throat or blow out his own brains.

"I've got a throat that I can cut, and brains that I can blow out," said the son, using an argument which he thought might be effective with his mother; though no man lived less likely to cut his own throat.


how brutal it is to speak to me in that way."


"It may be brutal; but you know, mother, business is business.


You want me to marry this girl because of her money."


I want her money; and when one wants money, one should make up one's mind how much or how little one means to take,--and whether one is sure to get it."


"If I were to marry her, and if the money wasn't there, it would be very like cutting my throat then, mother.

if I were to marry her, and if the money wasn't there, it would be like cutting my throat.


If a man plays and loses, he can play again and perhaps win; but when a fellow goes in for an heiress, and gets the wife without the money, he feels a little hampered you know."


Of course he ought; but it would be rather awkward to refuse to go into church after everything had been arranged because the money hadn't been paid over.

"Of course he ought; but it would be rather awkward to refuse to go into church because the money hadn't been paid over.


He's so clever, that he'd contrive that a man shouldn't know whether the money had been paid or not.


You can't carry 10,000 a year about in your pocket, you know.


If you'll go, mother, perhaps I might think of getting up."

If you'll go, mother, I might think of getting up."


Lady Carbury saw the danger, and turned over the affair on every side in her own mind.

Lady Carbury saw the danger, and turned over the affair in her own mind.


But she could also see the house in Grosvenor Square, the expenditure without limit, the congregating duchesses, the general acceptation of the people, and the mercantile celebrity of the man.

But she could also see the house in Grosvenor Square, the wealth and celebrity of the man, and


And she could weigh against that the absolute pennilessness of her baronet-son.

weigh that against the absolute pennilessness of her son.


The embarrassments of such a man as Lord Nidderdale were only temporary.

Lord Nidderdale's embarrassments were only temporary.


There were the family estates, and the marquisate, and a golden future for him; but there was nothing coming to Felix in the future.

There were the family estates, and a golden future for him; but there was nothing coming to Felix.


All the goods he would ever have of his own, he had now;--position, a title, and a handsome face.

All he would ever have, he had now; position, a title, and a handsome face.


Surely he could afford to risk something!


Even the ruins and wreck of such wealth as that displayed in Grosvenor Square would be better than the baronet's present condition.

Even the ruins of such wealth as that displayed in Grosvenor Square would be better than his present condition.


And then, though it was possible that old Melmotte should be ruined some day, there could be no doubt as to his present means; and would it not be probable that he would make hay while the sun shone by securing his daughter's position?

And though it was possible that old Melmotte should be ruined some day, there could be no doubt about his riches now.


She visited her son again on the next morning, which was Sunday, and again tried to persuade him to the marriage.

She visited her son again the next morning, which was Sunday, and again tried to persuade him to the marriage.


"I think you should be content to run a little risk," she said.


Sir Felix had been unlucky at cards on Saturday night, and had taken, perhaps, a little too much wine.


He was at any rate sulky, and in a humour to resent interference.


"I wish you'd leave me alone," he said, "to manage my own business."


"No; you haven't got to marry her, and to put up with these people.


I shall make up my mind what to do myself, and I don't want anybody to meddle with me."

I shall make up my mind what to do, and I don't want anybody to meddle."


Of course I'm ungrateful when I don't do everything just as you wish it.


Are you always to be a burden on me and your sister?


I will quit London altogether, and leave you to your own wretchedness."


I always thought Roger was a fellow of that sort."


What would Roger have thought had he heard this assertion from Lady Carbury?


"He's an ill-tempered, close-fisted, interfering cad, and if he meddles with my affairs again, I shall tell him what I think of him.


Upon my word, mother, these little disputes up in my bedroom ain't very pleasant.


Of course it's your house; but if you do allow me a room, I think you might let me have it to myself."

, I think you might let me have my room to myself."


It was impossible for Lady Carbury, in her present mood, and in his present mood, to explain to him that in no other way and at no other time could she ever find him.

It was impossible for Lady Carbury, in his present mood, to explain that it was the only way she could ever find him.


If she waited till he came down to breakfast, he escaped from her in five minutes, and then he returned no more till some unholy hour in the morning.

If she waited till he came down to breakfast, he escaped in five minutes, and did not return till some ungodly hour in the morning.


She was as good a pelican as ever allowed the blood to be torn from her own breast to satisfy the greed of her young, but she felt that she should have something back for her blood,--some return for her sacrifices.


This chick would take all as long as there was a drop left, and then resent the fondling of the mother-bird as interference.


Again and again there came upon her moments in which she thought that Roger Carbury was right.

Again and again there came upon her moments in which she thought that Roger Carbury was right about Felix.


And yet she knew that when the time came she would not be able to be severe.


She almost hated herself for the weakness of her own love,--but she acknowledged it.

She almost hated herself for the weakness of her love - but she acknowledged it.


If he should fall utterly, she must fall with him.

If he should fall, she must fall with him.


In spite of his cruelty, his callous hardness, his insolence to herself, his wickedness and ruinous indifference to the future, she must cling to him to the last.

In spite of his cruelty, his callous hardness, his insolence and ruinous indifference to the future, she must cling to him to the last.


All that she had done, and all that she had borne,--all that she was doing and bearing,--was it not for his sake?

All that she had done and borne - was it not for his sake?


Sir Felix had been in Grosvenor Square since his return from Carbury, and had seen Madame Melmotte and Marie; but he had seen them together, and not a word had been said about the engagement.

Sir Felix had been in Grosvenor Square, and had seen Madame Melmotte and Marie; but not a word had been said about the engagement.


He could not make much use of the elder woman.


She was as gracious as was usual with her; but then she was never very gracious.


She had told him that Miss Longestaffe was coming to her, which was a great bore, as the young lady was "fatigante."

Madame Melmotte had told him that Miss Longestaffe was coming, which was a great bore.


Upon this Marie had declared that she intended to like the young lady very much.


At this Marie had looked over to her lover and smiled.


"Ah, yes; that is all very well,--while it lasts; but you care for no friend."

"Ah, yes; that is all very well, while it lasts; but you care for no friend."


From which Felix had judged that Madame Melmotte at any rate knew of his offer, and did not absolutely disapprove of it.

From which Felix had judged that Madame Melmotte knew of his offer, and did not absolutely disapprove.


On the Saturday he had received a note at his club from Marie.

On Saturday he had received a note at his club from Marie.


This was in his possession when his mother visited him in his bedroom, and he had determined to obey the behest.


But he would not tell her of his intention, because he had drunk too much wine, and was sulky.

But he did not tell his mother of his intention.


At about three on Sunday he knocked at the door in Grosvenor Square and asked for the ladies.


Up to the moment of his knocking,--even after he had knocked, and when the big porter was opening the door,--he intended to ask for Mr. Melmotte; but at the last his courage failed him, and he was shown up into the drawing-room.

He intended to ask for Mr. Melmotte; but his courage failed him, and he was shown up into the drawing-room,


There he found Madame Melmotte, Marie, Georgiana Longestaffe, and--Lord Nidderdale.

where he found Madame Melmotte, Marie, Georgiana Longestaffe, and Lord Nidderdale.


Marie looked anxiously into his face, thinking that he had already been with her father.


He slid into a chair close to Madame Melmotte, and endeavoured to seem at his ease.

He slid into a chair close to Madame Melmotte, and tried to seem at his ease.


Lord Nidderdale continued his flirtation with Miss Longestaffe,--a flirtation which she carried on in a half whisper, wholly indifferent to her hostess or the young lady of the house.

Lord Nidderdale continued his flirtation with Miss Longestaffe - a flirtation which she carried on in a half whisper, wholly indifferent to her hostess.


"We know what brings you here," she said.

"We know what brings you here," said Georgiana.


"I'm sure, Lord Nidderdale, you didn't expect to find me here."


"Lord bless you, I knew all about it, and came on purpose.


"It's an institution you mean to belong to,--permanently."


I did have thoughts about it as fellows do when they talk of going into the army or to the bar; but I couldn't pass.


I shall go on coming here, because you're here.


I don't think you'll like it a bit, you know."

I don't think you'll like it here a bit, you know."


"I don't suppose I shall, Lord Nidderdale."


After a while Marie contrived to be alone with her lover near one of the windows for a few seconds.

After a while Marie contrived to be alone with her lover near one of the windows.


"Papa is down-stairs in the book-room," she said.

"Papa is downstairs in the book-room," she said.


"Lord Alfred was told when he came that he was out."


It was evident to Sir Felix that everything was prepared for him.


"You go down," she continued, "and ask the man to show you into the book-room."

"Go down, and ask the man to show you into the book-room."


"No; but leave a note for me here under cover to Madame Didon."

"No; but leave a note for me under cover to Madame Didon."


Now Sir Felix was sufficiently at home in the house to know that Madame Didon was Madame Melmotte's own woman, commonly called Didon by the ladies of the family.

Sir Felix knew that Madame Didon was Madame Melmotte's maid.


"Or send it by post,--under cover to her.


It certainly did seem to Sir Felix that the very nature of the girl was altered.

It seemed to Sir Felix that the very nature of the girl was altered.


But he went, just shaking hands with Madame Melmotte, and bowing to Miss Longestaffe.

But he went, shaking hands with Madame Melmotte, and bowing to Miss Longestaffe.


In a few moments he found himself with Mr. Melmotte in the chamber which had been dignified with the name of the book-room.

In a few moments he found himself with Mr. Melmotte.


The great financier was accustomed to spend his Sunday afternoons here, generally with the company of Lord Alfred Grendall.


It may be supposed that he was meditating on millions, and arranging the prices of money and funds for the New York, Paris, and London Exchanges.


But on this occasion he was waked from slumber, which he seemed to have been enjoying with a cigar in his mouth.


"I've just been in the drawing-room, but I thought I'd look in on you as I came down."


It immediately occurred to Melmotte that the baronet had come about his share of the plunder out of the railway, and he at once resolved to be stern in his manner, and perhaps rude also.

It immediately occurred to Melmotte that the baronet had come about his share of the plunder out of the railway, and he resolved to be stern, and perhaps rude, in


He believed that he should thrive best by resenting any interference with him in his capacity as financier.


He thought that he had risen high enough to venture on such conduct, and experience had told him that men who were themselves only half-plucked, might easily be cowed by a savage assumption of superiority.

Experience had told him that young men might easily be cowed by a savage assumption of superiority.


And he, too, had generally the advantage of understanding the game, while those with whom he was concerned did not, at any rate, more than half understand it.

And he understood the game, which Sir Felix did not.


He could thus trade either on the timidity or on the ignorance of his colleagues.


When neither of these sufficed to give him undisputed mastery, then he cultivated the cupidity of his friends.


He liked young associates because they were more timid and less greedy than their elders.


Lord Nidderdale's suggestions had soon been put at rest, and Mr. Melmotte anticipated no greater difficulty with Sir Felix.


"I'm very glad to see you, and all that," said Melmotte, assuming a certain exaltation of the eyebrows, which they who had many dealings with him often found to be very disagreeable; "but this is hardly a day for business, Sir Felix, nor,--yet a place for business."

"I'm very glad to see you, and all that," said Melmotte, raising his eyebrows in a disagreeable way; "but this is hardly a day for business."


Sir Felix wished himself at the Beargarden.


He certainly had come about business,--business of a particular sort; but Marie had told him that of all days Sunday would be the best, and had also told him that her father was more likely to be in a good humour on Sunday than on any other day.


Sir Felix felt that he had not been received with good humour.


"I didn't mean to intrude, Mr. Melmotte," he said.


You might have been going to speak about that railway."


"Your mother was saying to me down in the country that she hoped you attended to the business.


I told her that there was nothing to attend to."


"My mother doesn't understand anything at all about it," said Sir Felix.

"My mother doesn't understand anything about it," said Sir Felix.


Well;--what can I do for you, now that you are here?"


"Mr. Melmotte, I'm come,--I'm come to;--in short, Mr. Melmotte, I want to propose myself as a suitor for your daughter's hand."

"Mr. Melmotte, I'm come - I'm come to - in short, Mr. Melmotte, I want to propose myself as a suitor for your daughter's hand."


"Well, yes; and we hope you'll give us your consent."


"And how long have you and she understood each other?"

"And how long have you and she had an understanding?"


"I've been attached to her ever since I saw her," said Sir Felix.


You know how that kind of thing goes on."


I know that when large sums of money are supposed to be concerned, the young man should speak to the father before he speaks to the girl.

I know that the young man should speak to the father before he speaks to the girl.


He's a fool if he don't, if he wants to get the father's money.


"Do you consider that she's engaged to you?"


"Not if she's disposed to get out of it," said Sir Felix, hoping that he might thus ingratiate himself with the father.


"Of course, I should be awfully disappointed."


"She has consented to your coming to me?"


Of course she knows that it all depends on you."


If she chooses to marry you, she can marry you.


If that's all you want, her consent is enough.


"And therefore you've come to your own property.


You haven't to wait for your father to die, and I dare say you are indifferent about money."

"And therefore you haven't to wait for your father to die, and I dare say you are indifferent about money."


This was a view of things which Sir Felix felt that he was bound to dispel, even at the risk of offending the father.

This was a view of things which Sir Felix felt that he was bound to dispel.


"I suppose you will give your daughter a fortune, of course."


"Then I wonder you didn't come to me before you went to her.


If my daughter marries to please me, I shall give her money, no doubt.

If my daughter marries to please me, I shall give her money.


If she marries to please herself, without considering me, I shan't give her a farthing."


"I had hoped that you might consent, Mr. Melmotte."


You're a man of fashion and have a title of your own,--and no doubt a property.

You're a man of fashion and have a title - and no doubt a property.


If you'll show me that you've an income fit to maintain her, I'll think about it at any rate.


What could three or four thousand a year, or even five or six, matter to a man like Melmotte?


It was thus that Sir Felix looked at it.


When a man can hardly count his millions he ought not to ask questions about trifling sums of money.

when a man can hardly count his millions he ought not to ask questions about trifling sums of money.


But the question had been asked, and the asking of such a question was no doubt within the prerogative of a proposed father-in-law.


For a moment it occurred to Sir Felix that he might conveniently tell the truth.


It would be nasty for the moment, but there would be nothing to come after.


Were he to do so he could not be dragged down lower and lower into the mire by cross-examinings.

He could not be dragged down lower into the mire by cross-examinings.


There might be an end of all his hopes, but there would at the same time be an end of all his misery.

There might be an end of his hopes, but at the same time an end of his misery.


"It isn't a large property, you know," he said.


"Not like the Marquis of Westminster's, I suppose," said the horrid, big, rich scoundrel.


"No;--not quite like that," said Sir Felix, with a sickly laugh.

"No; not quite," said Sir Felix, with a sickly laugh.


"But you have got enough to support a baronet's title?"


"That depends on how you want to support it," said Sir Felix, putting off the evil day.


"Carbury Manor, down in Suffolk, near the Longestaffes, is the old family place."

"Carbury Manor, down in Suffolk, near the Longestaffes."


"That doesn't belong to you," said Melmotte, very sharply.

"That doesn't belong to you," said Melmotte sharply.


Perhaps if there is one thing in England more difficult than another to be understood by men born and bred out of England, it is the system under which titles and property descend together, or in various lines.

Now Melmotte was puzzled. He did not understand the complex English system under which titles and property descend.


The jurisdiction of our Courts of Law is complex, and so is the business of Parliament.


But the rules regulating them, though anomalous, are easy to the memory compared with the mixed anomalies of the peerage and primogeniture.


They who are brought up among it, learn it as children do a language, but strangers who begin the study in advanced life, seldom make themselves perfect in it.


It was everything to Melmotte that he should understand the ways of the country which he had adopted; and when he did not understand, he was clever at hiding his ignorance.

He wanted to comprehend the ways of the country which he had adopted; and was clever at hiding his ignorance.


He knew that Sir Felix was a baronet, and therefore presumed him to be the head of the family.


He knew that Carbury Manor belonged to Roger Carbury, and he judged by the name it must be an old family property.

He knew that Carbury Manor belonged to Roger Carbury.


And now the baronet declared that he was heir to the man who was simply an Esquire.


"Yes, I am the head of the family, of course," said Sir Felix, lying directly.

"Yes, I am the head of the family, of course," said Sir Felix, lying.


"But the place won't be mine till he dies.


It would take a long time to explain it all."


"If he were to marry and have children, how would it be then?"


Sir Felix was beginning to think that he might have told the truth with discretion.


I have always understood that I am the heir.


It's not very likely that he will marry."


"And in the meantime what is your own property?"


[Illustration: "In the meantime what is your own property?"]


"My father left me money in the funds and in railway stock,--and then I am my mother's heir."

"My father left me money in the funds and in railway stock - and then I am my mother's heir."


"You have done me the honour of telling me that you wish to marry my daughter."


"Would you then object to inform me the amount and nature of the income on which you intend to support your establishment as a married man?

Would you inform me the amount and nature of the income on which you intend to support her?"


I fancy that the position you assume justifies the question on my part."


The bloated swindler, the vile city ruffian, was certainly taking a most ungenerous advantage of the young aspirant for wealth.

Sir Felix felt that the bloated swindler was taking a most ungenerous advantage of


It was then that Sir Felix felt his own position.


Was he not a baronet, and a gentleman, and a very handsome fellow, and a man of the world who had been in a crack regiment?

Was he not a baronet and a gentleman, and a very handsome fellow, who had been in a crack regiment?


If this surfeited sponge of speculation, this crammed commercial cormorant, wanted more than that for his daughter, why could he not say so without asking disgusting questions such as these,--questions which it was quite impossible that a gentleman should answer?

If this surfeited sponge of speculation, this crammed commercial cormorant, wanted more than that for his daughter, why could he not say so without asking disgusting questions which it was quite impossible for a gentleman to answer?


Was it not sufficiently plain that any gentleman proposing to marry the daughter of such a man as Melmotte, must do so under the stress of pecuniary embarrassment?

Was it not plain that any gentleman proposing to marry the daughter of such a man as Melmotte, must do so


Would it not be an understood bargain that as he provided the rank and position, she would provide the money?

because he needed money in return for his rank?


And yet the vulgar wretch took advantage of his assumed authority to ask these dreadful questions!


Sir Felix stood silent, trying to look the man in the face, but failing;--wishing that he was well out of the house, and at the Beargarden.

Sir Felix stood silent, wishing that he was well out of the house.


"You don't seem to be very clear about your own circumstances, Sir Felix.


Perhaps you will get your lawyer to write to me."


"Perhaps that will be best," said the lover.


My daughter, no doubt, will have money; but money expects money."


At this moment Lord Alfred entered the room.


Why didn't you come as you said you would?"


"I was here more than an hour ago, and they said you were out."


"I haven't been out of this room all day,--except to lunch.


Ring the bell, Alfred, and we'll have a little soda and brandy."


Sir Felix had gone through some greeting with his fellow Director, Lord Alfred, and at last succeeded in getting Melmotte to shake hands with him before he went.

Sir Felix succeeded in getting Melmotte to shake hands with him before he went.


"Do you know anything about that young fellow?"


Melmotte asked as soon as the door was closed.


"He's a baronet without a shilling;--was in the army and had to leave it," said Lord Alfred as he buried his face in a big tumbler.

"He's a baronet without a shilling; was in the army and had to leave it," said Lord Alfred.


But he's heir to a place down in Suffolk;--eh?"

But he's heir to a place down in Suffolk; eh?"


It's the same name, and that's about all.


Mr. Carbury has a small property there, and he might give it to me to-morrow.


I wish he would, though there isn't much of it.


That young fellow has nothing to do with it whatever."


Mr. Melmotte as he speculated upon it, almost admired the young man's impudence.

Mr. Melmotte, thinking it over, almost admired the young man's impudence.


Marie Melmotte, as she had promised, sat up all night, as did also the faithful Didon.

Marie Melmotte, as she had promised, sat up all night with Didon.


I think that to Marie the night was full of pleasure,--or at any rate of pleasurable excitement.

To Marie the night was full of pleasurable excitement.


With her door locked, she packed and unpacked and repacked her treasures,--having more than once laid out on the bed the dress in which she purposed to be married.

She unpacked and repacked her treasures, including her wedding dress


She asked Didon her opinion whether that American clergyman of whom they had heard would marry them on board, and whether in that event the dress would be fit for the occasion.

, and asked Didon if she thought the dress would be fit for getting married on board ship.


Didon thought that the man, if sufficiently paid, would marry them, and that the dress would not much signify.

Didon thought that the dress would not much signify.


She scolded her young mistress very often during the night for what she called nonsense; but was true to her, and worked hard for her.


They determined to go without food in the morning, so that no suspicion should be raised by the use of cups and plates.

They had no breakfast, so that no suspicion should be raised by the use of cups and plates.


They could get refreshment at the railway-station.


Robert went first with the big boxes, having his ten pounds already in his pocket,--and Marie and Didon with smaller luggage followed in a second cab.

Robert went first with the big boxes, and Marie and Didon with the smaller luggage followed in a second cab.


No one interfered with them and nothing went wrong.


The very civil man at Euston Square gave them their tickets, and even attempted to speak to them in French.


They had quite determined that not a word of English was to be spoken by Marie till the ship was out at sea.

They had agreed that not a word of English was to be spoken till the ship was out at sea.


At the station they got some very bad tea and almost uneatable food,--but Marie's restrained excitement was so great that food was almost unnecessary to her.

At the station they got some very bad tea,


They took their seats without any impediment,--and then they were off.

then took their seats - and they were off.


During a great part of the journey they were alone, and then Marie gabbled to Didon about her hopes and her future career, and all the things she would do;--how she had hated Lord Nidderdale;--especially when, after she had been awed into accepting him, he had given her no token of love;--"pas un baiser!"

Marie gabbled to Didon about her hopes and her future life, and all the things she would do, and how she had hated Lord Nidderdale.


Didon suggested that such was the way with English lords.


She herself had preferred Lord Nidderdale, but had been willing to join in the present plan,--as she said, from devoted affection to Marie.


Marie went on to say that Nidderdale was ugly, and that Sir Felix was as beautiful as the morning.

Nidderdale was ugly, and Sir Felix was as beautiful as the morning.


exclaimed Didon, who was really disgusted that such considerations should prevail.


Didon had learned in some indistinct way that Lord Nidderdale would be a marquis and would have a castle, whereas Sir Felix would never be more than Sir Felix, and, of his own, would never have anything at all.

She had learned that Lord Nidderdale would be a marquis and would have a castle, whereas Sir Felix would never be more than Sir Felix, and would never have anything at all.


She had striven with her mistress, but her mistress liked to have a will of her own.

She had preferred Lord Nidderdale, but her mistress liked to have a will of her own.


Didon no doubt had thought that New York, with 50 and other perquisites in hand, might offer her a new career.

Didon thought, however, that New York might offer her a new career


She had therefore yielded, but even now could hardly forbear from expressing disgust at the folly of her mistress.


Marie bore it with imperturbable good humour.

Marie bore her disgust with good humour.