ost irreparable injury to such an
extent that an action for damages would, in their opinion, lie.

He had, by accepting his father's first story, altered the whole course
of his life, abandoned his profession, and even paid large sums of money
out of his own pocket for the maintenance of his elder brother. A jury
would probably award him some very considerable sum,--if a jury could get
hold of his father while still living. No doubt the furniture and other
property would remain, and might be held to be liable for the present
owner's laches. But these two learned lawyers did not think that an
action could be taken with any probability of success against the eldest
son, with reference to his tables and chairs, when the Tretton estates
should have become his. As these learned lawyers had learned that old
Mr. Scarborough was at this moment almost _in articulo mortis_, would
it not be better that Augustus should apply to his elder brother to make
him such compensation as the peculiarities of the case would demand? But
as this opinion did not reach Augustus till his father was dead, the
first alternative proposed was of no use.

"I suppose, sir, we had better communicate with Mr. Scarborough?" Mr.
Barry said to his partner, on his return.

"Not in my name," Mr. Grey replied. "I've put Mr. Scarborough in such a
state that he is not allowed to see any business letter. Sir William
Brodrick is there now." But communications were made both to Mountjoy
and to Augustus. There was nothing for Mountjoy to do; his case was in
Mr. Barry's hands; nor could he take any steps till something should be
done to oust him from Tretton. Augustus, however, immediately went to
work and employed his counsel, learned in the law.

"You will do something, I suppose, for poor Gus?" the old man said to
his son one morning. It was the last morning on which he was destined to
awake in the world, and he had been told by Sir William and by Mr.
Merton that it would probably be so. But death to him had no terror.
Life to him, for many weeks past, had been so laden with pain as to make
him look forward to a release from it with hope. But the business of
life had pressed so hard upon him as to make him feel that he could not
tell what had been accomplished.

The adjustment of such a property as Tretton required, he thought, his
presence, and, till it had been adjusted, he clung to life with a
pertinacity which had seemed to be oppressive. Now Mountjoy's deb