“I never suspected that you had a turn for nonsense!” Adam interrupted. “These possessions of mine are very fine-sounding until you tap “them, when they have a hollow ring. In any event, I don’t contemplate putting myself up for sale.”

There was a note of finality in his voice, and Wimmering bowed to it, content for the present to have instilled the idea into his brain. He might recoil from it, but Wimmering had formed a favourable opinion of his good sense, and he hoped that when he had recovered from the shock of finding himself on the brink of ruin he would perceive the advantages of what was, in his adviser’s view, a very simple way out of his difficulties. It was fortunate that he was unattached — if he was unattached. Wimmering knew that a year previously he had fancied himself in love with Lord Oversley’s daughter; but no notice of an engagement had ever appeared, and the connection had not met with the Fifth Viscount’s approbation. The Fifth Viscount had been quite as anxious as Wimmering that his son should marry money; and from what he knew of Lord Oversley’s circumstances Wimmering could not suppose that he either regarded with enthusiasm such an alliance. Miss Julia was an accredited Beauty; and if any man could have made an accurate guess at the extent of Lord Lynton’s embarrassments it must have been his old friend Oversley. No, Wimmering was inclined to think that his late lordship had been right when he had dismissed the affair as mere calf-love.

(“And now there’s that cub of mine fancying himself in love with Oversley’s girl!” had said his lordship, in one of his moments of exasperation. “All humdudgeon! never looked twice at the chit till he was sent home with a ball in his hip! He’s been living in the girl’s pocket ever since he could hobble round to Mount Street. A couple of green ‘uns! I shan’t lose any sleep over such fiddle-faddling nonsense!”)

Wimmering would lose no sleep either. The new Viscount had repudiated with distaste the suggestion that he should hang out for a likely heiress, but he had given no indication that his affections were already engaged. It was not wonderful that he should have alleviated the pain and the weariness of the months he had spent in and out of the surgeons’ hands with a flirtation with the lovely Miss Oversley; still less wonderful that a romantic girl should have encouraged the gallantry of a hero of Salamanca. In Wimmering’s opinion, it would be more wonderful if so youthful an affair had survived separation.

As for his lordship’s doubt of his acceptability, Wimmering did not share it. Lord Oversley might not welcome the alliance, but it was not of such parents as Oversley that Wimmering was thinking. It had plainly not occurred to the Viscount that he should seek a wife in the ranks of the rich merchants: probably he would dislike that idea at first, but he seemed to be a sensible young man, and one who would probably go to almost any length to preserve the place which had for generations been the home of the Deverils. There would be nothing unusual in such a match: no need at all for his lordship to marry a vulgar mushroom’s heiress. Mr Wimmering could call to mind a dozen very gentlemanly persons engaged in trade who were anxious to thrust their offspring up the social ladder; but, on the whole, he was inclined to think that the ideal bride should be sought in one or other of the great banking-houses. That would be quite unexceptionable. The chances were, too, that unless the girl was very hard to please she would take a fancy to his lordship. He was a good-looking young man, though not handsome in his father’s slightly flamboyant style. His was a thin, sensitive countenance, rendered charming by his smile, which was of peculiar sweetness. He looked older than his twenty-six years, his face being a little lined through constant puckering of his eyes against a scorching sun, and his skin rather weather-beaten. He was of average height, well-built, but lacking his father’s magnificent physique: indeed, had it not been for a certain tautness in his carriage, betraying the muscles in his spare frame, it might have been suspected that he was delicate, so thin was he. When he walked it was with a slight halt, but that legacy from Salamanca did not seem to discommode him much. He was lucky not to have had his leg amputated, though it was doubtful if he had thought so at the time. Wimmering did not know how many agonizing operations he had been obliged to undergo before the surgeons succeeded in extracting the ball and all the splinters of bone, but he thought that those weeks had set their ineradicable mark on his lordship’s face.

He did not again mention the marriage-scheme, but devoted himself instead to the task of guiding the Viscount through the tangled maze of his father’s affairs. He was genuinely grieved to see the look of care deepen in the young man’s fine eyes, but he did not try to minimize the gravity of his predicament: the more fully my lord realized this the more likely would he be to overcome his reluctance to marry for the sake of a fortune. When Wimmering left the Priory it was in a hopeful mood, for his opinion of his new patron’s good sense had mounted considerably. He had taken the shocking news well, not railing against fate, or uttering any word of bitterness. If he blamed his father it was silently: he seemed more inclined to blame himself. He was undoubtedly a little stunned; but when he had recovered he would think it over calmly, and, in his search for a solution to his troubles, remember the suggestion that had been made to him, and perhaps think that over too.

Mr Wimmering was not a very warmhearted man, but when he took leave of Adam he was conscious of a purely human desire to help him. He was behaving beautifully: much better than his father had behaved in moments of sudden stress. When he saw Wimmering off in one of his own carriages, which would convey Wimmering to Market Deeping, on the first stage of his journey back to London, he said, with his delightful smile: “You will be jotted to bits, I’m afraid! The road is as bad as any in Portugal. Thank ,you for undertaking such a tiresome journey: I am very much obliged to you! I shall be in town within a few days — as soon as I have settled some few matters here, and consulted with my mother.”

He shook hands, and waited to see the carriage in motion before going back to the library.

He sat down again at the desk, with the intention of arranging in some sort of order the litter of papers on it, but when he had gathered into a formidable pile the tradesmen’s bills, he sat quite still for a long time, looking through the window at the daffodils, but not seeing them.

He was recalled from this abstraction by the sound of an opening door, and looked round to see that his younger sister was peeping into the room.

“Has he gone?” she asked, in conspiratorial accents. “May I come in?”

His eyes lit with amusement, but he replied with due gravity: “Yes, but take care you are unobserved!”

She twinkled responsively. “I like you the best of all my family,” she confided, coming across the room to the chair lately occupied by Wimmering.

“Thank you!”

“Not that that’s saying much,” she added reflectively, “for I don’t count aunts and uncles and cousins. So there are now only four of us. And to tell you the truth, Adam, I only loved Papa in-, a dutiful way, and Stephen not at all! Of course, I might have loved Maria, if she hadn’t died before I was born, but I don’t think I should have, because from what Mama tells us she was the most odious child!”

“Lydia, Mama never said such a thing!” protested Adam.

“No, exactly the reverse! She says Maria was too good for this world, so you see what I mean, don’t you?”

He could not deny it, but suggested, with a quivering lip, that Maria, had she been spared beyond her sixth year, might have outgrown her oppressive virtue. Lydia agreed to this, though doubtfully, observing that Charlotte was very virtuous too. “And I am most sincerely attached to Charlotte,” she assured him.

“To Mama also, surely!”

“Of course: that is obligatory!” she answered, with dignity.

He was taken aback, but after eyeing her for a moment he prudently refrained from comment. He was not very well-acquainted with her, for she was nine years younger than he; and although, during his weary convalescence, she had frequently diverted him with her youthful opinions, her visits to his sick-bed had been restricted by the exigencies of education. Miss Keckwick, a governess of uncertain age and severe aspect, had rarely failed to summon Lydia from her brother’s room at the end of half-an-hour, either for an Italian lesson, or for an hour’s practise on the harp. The fruits of her painstaking diligence had not so far been made apparent to Adam, for although there was a good deal of intelligence in his sister’s lively face she had as yet vouchsafed no sign of the erudition to be expected in one educated by so highly qualified a preceptress as Miss Keckwick.

He was wondering why she was so much more taking than her elder, and far more beautiful, sister, when she emerged from some undisclosed reverie, and disconcerted him by demanding: “Are we ruined, Adam?”

“Oh, I trust it won’t be as bad as that!”

“I had better tell you at once,” interrupted Lydia, “that although I have always set my face resolutely against Education, which I very soon perceived would be of no use to me whatsoever, I am not at all stupid! Why, even Charlotte has known that we stood on the brink of disaster for years, and no one could say that her understanding is superior! And also, Adam, I am turned seventeen, besides having a great deal of worldly knowledge, and I mean to help you, if I can, so pray don’t speak in that nothing-to-do-with-you voice!”

“I beg pardon!” he apologized hastily.

“Is it ruin?”

“Something uncomfortably like it, I’m afraid.”

“I thought so. Mama has been saying for weeks that she expects at any moment to find herself without a roof over her head.”

“It won’t be as bad as that,” he assured her. “She will have her jointure — do you know what that is?”

“Yes, but she says it is a paltry sum, and that we shall be obliged to subsist on black-puddings — and that, Adam, will never do for Mama!”

“She exaggerates. I hope she will be able to live in tolerable comfort. She will have about eight hundred pounds a year — not a fortune, but at least an independence. With a little economy — ”

“Mama,” stated Lydia, “has never studied economy.”

He smiled. “Have you?”

“Only Political Economy, and that’s of no use! I may not know a great deal about it, but I do know that it has to do with the distribution of wealth, which is why I decided not to tease myself with it, on account of not having any wealth to distribute.”

“Didn’t the learned Miss Keckwick teach you household economy?”

“No: her mind was of an elevated order. Besides, everyone knows what that means! It’s having only one course for dinner, and not enough footmen, and making up one’s own dresses, which is perfectly useless, because if you have no money to pay for anything it’s the most idiotish waste of time to be learning how to save it! Mama won’t — but I wasn’t thinking of her: I was thinking of you, and Fontley.” She bent a serious gaze upon him. “Mama says Fontley will be lost to us. Is it true? Please tell me, Adam!” She read the answer in his face, and lowered her gaze. After carefully pleating her muslin gown across her knees, she said: “I Find that a truly detestable thought.”

“So do I,” he agreed sadly. “Too detestable to be talked of, until I’ve grown more accustomed to it.”

She looked up. “I know it is much worse for you, and I don’t mean to talk of it in a repining way. The thing is that I’m persuaded we ought to make a push to save it. I have been thinking about it a great deal, and I perceive that it is now my duty to contract a Brilliant Alliance. Do you think I could, if I set my mind to it?”

“No, certainly not! My dear Lydia — ”

“Well, I do,” she said decidedly. “I can see, of course, that there may be” one or two little rubs in the way, particularly the circumstance of my not yet being out. Mama had meant to present me this season, you know, but she can’t do so while we are in black gloves, and I see that if I don’t go into society — ”

“Who put this nonsense into your head?” interrupted Adam.

She looked surprised. “It isn’t nonsense! Why, don’t you know how hopeful Mama was that Charlotte would contract a Brilliant Alliance? She very nearly did, too, but she wouldn’t accept the offer, on account of Lambert Ryde. And I must say that that put me quite out of charity with her! Anyone but a wet-goose would have known what would come of it, and it did! For weeks Mama talked of nothing but Maria, and how she would never have been so unmindful of her duty as poor Charlotte!”