ough
life; the unfortunate sin that is my bane to this hour--cowardly
irresolution."

"All right, Val; I see you mean well now. We'll talk of these matters
next week. Instead of Elster's Folly, let it become Elster's Wisdom."

Lord Hartledon wrung his brother's hand and turned away. His eyes fell on
Miss Ashton, and he went straight up to her. Putting the young lady's arm
within his own, without word or ceremony, he took her off to a distance:
and old Lady Kirton's skirts went round in a dance as she saw it.

"I am about to take him in hand, Anne, and set him going again: I have
promised Dr. Ashton. We must get him a snug berth; one that even the
doctor won't object to, and set him straight in other matters. If he has
mortgaged his patrimony, it shall be redeemed. And, Anne, I think--I do
think--he may be trusted to keep straight for the future."

Her soft sweet eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her lips parted with a
sunny smile. Lord Hartledon took her hand within his own as it lay on his
arm, and the furious old dowager saw it all from the distance.

"Don't say as much as this to him, Anne: I only tell you. Val is so
sanguine, that it may be better not to tell him all beforehand. And I
want, of course, first of all, to get a true list of--that is, a true
statement of facts," he broke off, not caring to speak the word "debts"
to that delicate girl before him. "He is my only brother; my father left
him to me, for he knew what Val was; and I'll do my best for him. I'd do
it for Val's own sake, apart from the charge. And, Anne, once Val is on
his legs with an income, snug and comfortable, I shall recommend him to
marry without delay; for, after all, you will be his greatest safeguard."

A blush suffused her face, and Lord Hartledon smiled.

Down came the countess-dowager.

"Here's that old dowager calling to me. She never lets me alone. Val sent
me into a fit of laughter yesterday, saying she had designs on me for
Maude. Poor deluded woman! Yes, ma'am, I hear. What is it?"

Mr. Elster went strolling along on the banks of the river, towards Calne;
not with any particular purpose, but in his restless uneasiness. He had a
tender conscience, and his past follies were pressing on it heavily. Of
one thing he felt sure--that he was more deeply involved than Hartledon
or anyone else suspected, perhaps even himself. The way was charming in
fine weather, though less pleasant in winter. It was by no means a
frequented road,