with Mr. Jones. A month went on--two months went by--and nothing came of
it. "It is no use your coming here, Mr. Scarborough," at last Mr. Barry
said to him with but scant courtesy. "We are perfectly sure of our
ground. There is not a penny due you;--not a penny. If you will sign
certain documents, which I would advise you to do in the presence of
your own lawyer, there will be twenty-five thousand pounds for you. You
must excuse me if I say that I cannot see you again on the
subject,--unless you accept your brother's liberality."

At this time, Augustus was very short of money and, as is always the
case, those to whom he owed aught became pressing as his readiness to
pay them gradually receded. But to be so spoken to by a lawyer,--he,
Scarborough of Tretton, as he had all but been,--to be so addressed by a
man whom he had regarded as old Grey's clerk, was bitter indeed. He had
been so exalted by that Nice marriage, had been so lifted high in the
world, that he was now absolutely prostrate. He quarrelled with his
lawyer, and he quarrelled also with Septimus Jones. There was no one
with whom he could discuss the matter, or rather no one who would
discuss it with him on his terms. So at last he accepted the money, and
went daily into the City in order that he might turn it into more. What
became of him in the City it is hardly the province of this chronicle to
tell.

CHAPTER LXIV.

THE LAST OF FLORENCE MOUNTJOY.

Now at last in this chapter has to be told the fate of Florence
Mountjoy, as far as it can be told in these pages. It was, at any rate,
her peculiarity to attach to herself, by bonds which could not easily be
severed, those who had once thought that they might be able to win her
love. An attempt has been made to show how firm and determined were the
affections of Harry Annesley, and how absolutely he trusted in her word
when once it had been given to him. He had seemed to think that when she
had even nodded to him, in answer to his assertion that he desired her
to be his wife, all his trouble as regarded her heart had been off his
mind.

There might be infinite trouble as to time,--as to ten years, three
years, or even one year; trouble in inducing her to promise that she
would become his wife in opposition to her mother; but he had felt sure
that she never would be the wife of any one else. How he had at last
succeeded in mitigating the opposition of her mother, so as to make the
three years, or ev