go out to-day, and therefore, it had to
be either the old mare or the young horse."

"Why didn't you take Ramble?" Now Ramble was the squire's own saddle
hack, used for farm surveying, and occasionally for going to cover.

"I shouldn't think of doing that, sir."

"My dear boy, he is quite at your service; for goodness' sake do let
me have a little wine, Frank--quite at your service; any riding I
have now is after the haymakers, and that's all on the grass."

"Thank'ee, sir. Well, perhaps I will take a turn out of Ramble should
I want it."

"Do, and pray, pray take care of that black horse's legs. He's
turning out more of a horse than I took him to be, and I should be
sorry to see him injured. Where have you been to-day?"

"Well, father, I have something to tell you."

"Something to tell me!" and then the squire's happy and gay look,
which had been only rendered more happy and more gay by his assumed
anxiety about the black horse, gave place to that heaviness of visage
which acrimony and misfortune had made so habitual to him. "Something
to tell me!" Any grave words like these always presaged some money
difficulty to the squire's ears. He loved Frank with the tenderest
love. He would have done so under almost any circumstances; but,
doubtless, that love had been made more palpable to himself by the
fact that Frank had been a good son as regards money--not exigeant
as was Lady Arabella, or selfishly reckless as was his nephew Lord
Porlock. But now Frank must be in difficulty about money. This was
his first idea. "What is it, Frank; you have seldom had anything
to say that has not been pleasant for me to hear?" And then the
heaviness of visage again gave way for a moment as his eye fell upon
his son.

"I have been to Boxall Hill, sir."

The tenor of his father's thoughts was changed in an instant; and the
dread of immediate temporary annoyance gave place to true anxiety for
his son. He, the squire, had been no party to Mary's exile from his
own domain; and he had seen with pain that she had now a second time
been driven from her home: but he had never hitherto questioned the
expediency of separating his son from Mary Thorne. Alas! it became
too necessary--too necessary through his own default--that Frank
should marry money!

"At Boxall Hill, Frank! Has that been prudent? Or, indeed, has it
been generous to Miss Thorne, who has been driven there, as it were,
by your imprudence?"

"Father, it is well that we s