calling himself Augustus Fitz-George Frederick William Richmond Guelph
Roy, for purposes which would, they assured him, warrant the inquiry. He
was for throwing the letter aside, shouting that he thanked his God he
was unacquainted with anybody on earth with such an infernal list of
names as that. Roy! Who knew anything of Roy?

'It happens to be my father's present name,' said I.

'It sounds to me like the name of one of those blackguard adventurers
who creep into families to catch the fools,' pursued the squire, not
hearing me with his eyes.

'The letter at least must be answered,' my aunt Dorothy said.

'It shall be answered!' the squire worked himself up to roar. He wrote a
reply, the contents of which I could guess at from my aunt's refusal
to let me be present at the discussion of it. The letter despatched was
written by her, with his signature. Her eyes glittered for a whole day.

Then came a statement of the young lady's case from Bath.

'Look at that! look at that!' cried the squire, and went on, 'Look at
that!' in a muffled way. There was a touch of dignity in his unforced
anger.

My aunt winced displeasingly to my sight: 'I see nothing to astonish
one.'

'Nothing to astonish one!' The squire set his mouth in imitation of her.

'You see nothing to astonish one? Well, ma'am, when a man grows old
enough to be a grandfather, I do see something astonishing in a child
of nineteen--by George! it's out o' nature. But you women like
monstrosities. Oh! I understand. Here's an heiress to fifteen thousand a
year. It's not astonishing if every ruined gambler and scapegrace in the
kingdom's hunting her hot! no, no! that's not astonishing. I suppose she
has her money in a coal mine.'

The squire had some of his in a coal-mine; my mother once had; it was
the delivery of a blow at my father, signifying that he had the scent
for this description of wealth. I left the room. The squire then
affected that my presence had constrained him, by bellowing out epithets
easy for me to hear in the hall and out on the terrace. He vowed by
solemn oath he was determined to save this girl from ruin. My aunt's
speech was brief.

I was summoned to Bath by my father in a curious peremptory tone
implying the utmost urgent need of me.

I handed the letter to the squire at breakfast, saying, 'You must spare
me for a week or so, sir.'

He spread the letter flat with his knife, and turned it over with his
fork.

'Harry,' said he, h