money to the same tune. I've said all now I am
going to say."

"Thank you for the advice given me. I will take it as far as I can. This
afternoon the Judge has promised to talk over the business with me."

"The Judge never saw Rawdon Court, and he cares nothing about it, but he
can give you counsel about the 'good things' Bryce Denning offers you.
And you may safely listen to it, for, right or wrong, I see plainly it
is your own advice you will take in the long run."

Mostyn laughed pleasantly and went back to his hotel to think over the
facts gleaned from his conversation with Madam. In the first place,
he understood that any overt act against Squire Rawdon would be deeply
resented by his American relatives. But then he reminded himself that
his own relationship with them was merely sentiment. He had now nothing
to hope for in the way of money. Madam's apparently spontaneous and
truthful assertion, that the Judge cared nothing for Rawdon Court, was,
however, very satisfactory to him. He had been foolish enough to think
that the thing he desired so passionately was of equal value in
the estimation of others. He saw now that he was wrong, and he then
remembered that he had never found Judge Rawdon to evince either
interest or curiosity about the family home.

If he had been a keen observer, the Judge's face when he called might
have given his comfortable feelings some pause. It was contracted,
subtle, intricate, but he came forward with a congratulation on Mostyn's
improved appearance. "A few weeks at the seaside would do you good," he
added, and Mostyn answered, "I think of going to Newport for a month."

"And then?"

"I want your opinion about that. McLean advises me to see the
country--to go to Chicago, St. Louis, Denver, cross the Rockies, and on
to California. It seems as if that would be a grand summer programme.
But my lawyer writes me that the man in charge at Mostyn is cutting too
much timber and is generally too extravagant. Then there is the question
of Rawdon Court. My finances will not let me carry the mortgage on it
longer, unless I buy the place."

"Are you thinking of that as probable?"

"Yes. It will have to be sold. And Mostyn seems to be the natural owner
after Rawdon. The Mostyns have married Rawdons so frequently that we are
almost like one family, and Rawdon Court lies, as it were, at Mostyn's
gate. The Squire is now old, and too easily persuaded for his own
welfare, and I hear the Tyrrel-