f Tretton Park at
once. I have stayed long enough to give some farther trouble. You will
not say, after this, that I am _non compos_, and unable to make a will.
You will find that, under mine, not one penny-piece, not one scrap of
property, will become yours. Mountjoy will take care of you, I do not
doubt. He must hate you, but will recognize you as his brother. I am not
so soft-hearted and will not recognize you as my son. Now you may go
away." So saying, he turned himself round to the wall, and refused to be
induced to utter another word. Augustus began to speak, but when he had
commenced his second sentence the old man rung his bell. "Mary," said he
to his sister, "will you have the goodness to get Augustus to go away? I
am very weak, and if he remains he will be the death of me. He can't get
anything by killing me at once; it is too late for that."

Then Augustus did leave the room, and before the night came had left
Tretton also. He presumed there was nothing for him to do there. One
word he did say to Mountjoy,--"You will understand, Mountjoy, that when
our father is dead Tretton will not become your property."

"I shall understand nothing of the kind," said Mountjoy "but I suppose
Mr. Grey will tell me what I am to do."

CHAPTER LVII.

MR. PROSPER SHOWS HIS GOOD-NATURE.

While these things were going on at Tretton, and while Mr. Scarborough
was making all arrangements for the adequate disposition of his
property,--in doing which he had happily come to the conclusion that
there was no necessity for interfering with what the law had
settled,--Mr. Prosper was lying very ill at Buston, and was endeavoring
on his sick-bed to reconcile himself to what the entail had done for
him. There could be no other heir to him but Harry Annesley. As he
thought of the unmarried ladies of his acquaintance, he found that there
was no one who would have done for him but Miss Puffle and Matilda
Thoroughbung. All others were too young or too old, or chiefly
penniless. Miss Puffle would have been the exact thing--only for that
intruding farmer's son.

As he lay there alone in his bedroom his mind used to wander a little,
and he would send for Matthew, his butler, and hold confidential
discussions with him. "I never did think, sir, that Miss Thoroughbung
was exactly the lady," said Matthew.

"Why not?"

"Well, sir, there is a saying--But you'll excuse me."

"Go on, Matthew."

"There is a saying as how 'you can't make