y telling himself that they were
certainly pseudo-creditors, to whom he did not in fact owe a penny. Mr.
Barry could deal with them.

But then his conscience reminded him that they had, in truth, been
cheated,--cheated by his father for his benefit. For every pound which
they had received they would have claimed three or four. They would no
doubt have cheated him. But how was he now to measure the extent of his
father's fraud against that of his creditors? And though it would have
been right in him to resist the villany of these Jews, he felt that it
was not fit that he should escape from their fangs altogether by his
father's deceit. He had not become so dead to honor but that _noblesse
oblige_ did still live within his bosom. And yet there was nothing that
he could do to absolve his bosom. The income of the estate was nearly
clear, the money brought in by the late sales having all but sufficed to
give these gentlemen that which his father had chosen to pay them. But
was he sure of that income? He had just now asserted boldly that he was
the legitimate heir to the property; but did he know that he was so?
Could he believe his father? Had not Mr. Grey asserted that he would not
accept this later evidence? Was he not sure that Augustus intended to
proceed against him? and was he not aware that nothing could be called
his own till that lawsuit should have been decided? If that should be
given against him, then these harpies would have been treated only too
well; then there would be no question, at any rate by him, as to what
_noblesse oblige_ might require of him. He could take no immediate step
in regard to them, and therefore, for the moment, drove that trouble
from his mind.

But what should he do with himself as to his future life? To be
persecuted and abused by these wretched men, as had this morning been
his fate, would be intolerable. Could he shut himself up from Mr. Samuel
Hart and still live in England? And then could he face the clubs,--if the
clubs would be kind enough to re-elect him? And then there came a dark
frown across his brow, as he bethought himself that even at this moment
his heart was longing to be once more among the cards. Could he not
escape to Monaco, and there be happy among the gambling-tables? Mr. Hart
would surely not follow him there, and he would be free from the
surveillance of that double blackguard, his brother's servant and his
father's spy.

But, after all, as he declared to himse