ady's circumstances, and
she had asked them for their advice. They had proposed to her that the
use of her own income should be by deed left to herself. Some proportion
of it should go into the house, and might be made matter of agreement.
They suggested that an annuity of a thousand pounds a year, in shape of
dower, should be secured to their client in the event of her outliving
Mr. Prosper. The estate should, of course, be settled on the eldest
child. The mother's property should be equally divided among the other
children. Buston Hall should be the residence of the widow till the
eldest son should be twenty-four, after which Mr. Prosper would no doubt
feel that their client would have to provide a home for herself. Messrs.
Soames & Simpson did not think that there was anything in this to which
Mr. Prosper would object, and if this were so, they would immediately
prepare the settlement. "That woman didn't say against it, after all,"
said Matthew to himself as he gave the letter from the lawyers to his
master.

The letter made Mr. Prosper very angry. It did, in truth, contain
nothing more than a repetition of the very terms which the lady had
herself suggested; but coming to him through these local lawyers it was
doubly distasteful. What was he to do? He felt it to be out of the
question to accede at once. Indeed, he had a strong repugnance to
putting himself into communication with the Buntingford lawyers. Had the
matter been other than it was, he would have gone to the rector for
advice. The rector generally advised him.

But that was out of the question now. He had seen his sister once since
his visit to Buntingford, but had said nothing to her about it. Indeed,
he had been anything but communicative, so that Mrs. Annesley had been
forced to leave him with a feeling almost of offense. There was no help
to be had in that quarter, and he could only write to Mr. Grey, and ask
that gentleman to assist him in his difficulties.

He did write to Mr. Grey, begging for his immediate attention. "There is
that fool Prosper going to marry a brewer's daughter down at
Buntingford," said Mr. Grey to his daughter.

"He's sixty years old."

"No, my love. He looks it, but he's only fifty. A man at fifty is
supposed to be young enough to marry. There's a nephew who has been
brought up as his heir; that's the hard part of it. And the nephew is
mixed up in some way with the Scarboroughs."

"Is it he who is to marry that young lad