ogne."

"It did sound so melancholy."

"But I only meant that we should have to be very careful how we
lived. I don't know quite whether I am so good at being careful about
money as a fellow ought to be."

"You must take a lesson from me, sir."

"I have sent the horses to Tattersall's, he said in a tone that was
almost funereal.

"What!--already?"

"I gave the order yesterday. They are to be sold,--I don't know when.
They won't fetch anything. They never do. One always buys bad horses
there for a lot of money, and sells good ones for nothing. Where the
difference goes to I never could make out."

"I suppose the man gets it who sells them."

"No; he don't. The fellows get it who have their eyes open. My eyes
never were open,--except as far as seeing you went."

"Perhaps if you had opened them wider you wouldn't have to go to--"

"Don't, Adelaide. But, as I was saying about the horses, when they're
sold of course the bills won't go on. And I suppose things will come
right. I don't owe so very much."

"I've got something to tell you," she said.

"What about?"

"You're to see my cousin to-day at two o'clock."

"The Duke?"

"Yes,--the Duke; and he has got a proposition. I don't know that you
need sell your horses, as it seems to make you so very unhappy. You
remember Madame Goesler?"

"Of course I do. She was at Harrington."

"There's something about a legacy which I can't understand at all. It
is ever so much money, and it did belong to the old Duke. They say
it is to be mine,--or yours rather, if we should ever be married.
And then you know, Gerard, perhaps, after all, you needn't go to
Boulogne." So she took her revenge, and he had his as he pressed his
arm round her waist and kissed her among the ruins of the old Priory.

Precisely at two to the moment he had his interview with the Duke,
and very disagreeable it was to both of them. The Duke was bound
to explain that the magnificent present which was being made to
his cousin was a gift, not from him, but from Madame Goesler; and,
though he was intent on making this as plain as possible, he did
not like the task. "The truth is, Mr. Maule, that Madame Goesler is
unwilling, for reasons with which I need not trouble you, to take
the legacy which was left to her by my uncle. I think her reasons to
be insufficient, but it is a matter in which she must, of course,
judge for herself. She has decided,--very much, I fear, at my wife's
instigation, which I