have enjoyed it, had
not the accumulation been taken from him to pay Mountjoy's debts. It was
in vain that he attempted to make Mountjoy responsible for the money.
Mountjoy's debts, and irregularities, and gambling went on, till Mr.
Scarborough found himself bound to dethrone the illegitimate son, and to
place the legitimate in his proper position.

In doing the deed he had not suffered much, though the circumstances
which had led to the doing of it had been full of pain. There had been
an actual pleasure to him in thus showing himself to be superior to the
conventionalities of the world. There was Augustus still ready to occupy
the position to which he had in truth been born. And at the moment
Mountjoy had gone--he knew not where. There had been gambling debts
which, coming as they did after many others, he had refused to pay. He
himself was dying at the moment, as he thought. It would be better for
him to take up with Augustus. Mountjoy he must leave to his fate. For
such a son, so reckless, so incurable, so hopeless, it was impossible
that anything farther should be done. He would at least enjoy the power
of leaving those wretched creditors without their money. There would be
some triumph, some consolation, in that. So he had done, and now his
heir turned against him!

It was very bitter to him, as he lay thinking of it all. He was a man
who was from his constitution and heart capable of making great
sacrifices for those he loved. He had a most thorough contempt for the
character of an honest man. He did not believe in honesty, but only in
mock honesty. And yet he would speak of an honest man with admiration,
meaning something altogether different from the honesty of which men
ordinarily spoke. The usual honesty of the world was with him all
pretence, or, if not, assumed for the sake of the character it would
achieve. Mr. Grey he knew to be honest; Mr. Grey's word he knew to be
true; but he fancied that Mr. Grey had adopted this absurd mode of
living with the view of cheating his neighbors by appearing to be better
than others. All virtue and all vice were comprised by him in the words
"good-nature" and "ill-nature." All church-going propensities,--and
these propensities in his estimate extended very widely,--he scorned from
the very bottom of his heart. That one set of words should be deemed
more wicked than another, as in regard to swearing, was to him a sign
either of hypocrisy, of idolatry, or of feminine weakne