d in any
ordinary piece of business there is no one whose opinion I would take
so soon. But he talks of my waiting, telling me that the thing will
come round after a few years,--as if what one wanted was merely an
investment for one's money. It isn't that."

"No, sir;--it isn't that."

"Not that at all. It's the feeling of the thing. Your lawyer may be
the best man in the world to lay out your money in a speculation, but
he doesn't dare to buy contentment for you. He doesn't see it, and
one hardly dares to try and make him see it. I'd give the half of
it all to have the other half, but I cannot tell him that. I'd give
one half so long as that fellow wasn't to be the owner of the other.
We'll have no opposition Newton in the place."

The Squire's son was of course willing enough to go up to London.
He would see the heir at any rate, and endeavour to learn what were
the wishes of the heir. "You may say what money you like," said the
Squire. "I hardly care what I pay, so long as it is possible to pay
it. Go up to L10,000 more, if that will do it."

"I don't think I can bargain," said the son.

"But he can," said the father. "At any rate you can find out whether
he will name a price. I'd go myself, but I know I should quarrel with
him."

Ralph prepared himself for the journey, and, as a matter of course,
took the parson into his confidence; not telling the parson anything
of the absolute sum named, but explaining that it was his purpose to
become acquainted with the heir, and if possible to learn his views.
"You'll find Ralph a very different fellow from what my uncle thinks
him," said the parson. "I shall be much mistaken if he does not tell
you quite openly what he intends. He is careless about money, but he
never was greedy." And then they got to other matters. "You will of
course see the girls at Fulham," said the parson.

"Yes;--I shall manage to get down there."

The story of Gregory's passion for Clarissa was well known to the
other. Gregory, who would not for worlds have spoken of such a matter
among his general acquaintance, who could not have brought himself to
mention it in the presence of two hearers, had told it all to the one
companion who was nearest and dearest to him,--"I wish I were going
with you," said the parson.

"Why not come with me then?"

"And yet I don't wish it. If I were in London I doubt whether I would
go there. There could be no use in it."

"It is one of those things," said Ra