he
left Hadley as quickly as he could, and betook himself to Littlebath
with a somewhat saddened heart. He consoled himself, however, by
reflecting that an old man's whims are seldom very enduring, and that
George might yet become a participator in the huge prize; if not on
his own account, at least on that of his wife.

Sir Lionel returned to Littlebath, resolving that come what might he
would not again have personal recourse to his brother. He had tried
his diplomatic powers and had failed--failed in that line on being
successful in which he so pre-eminently piqued himself. In Ireland it
is said of any man who is more than ordinarily persuasive, that he
can "talk the devil out of the liver wing of a turkey!" Sir Lionel
had always supposed himself to be gifted with this eloquence; but in
that discourse at Hadley, the devil had been too stout for him, and
he had gone away without any wing at all--liver or other.

On one point on which he had been very anxious to say a word or two,
he had been unable to introduce the slightest hint. He had not dreamt
that it would be possible to ask his brother in so many words whether
or no Miss Baker would be made a participator in the great prize; but
he had imagined that he might have led the way to some conversation
which would have shown what were the old man's feelings with
reference to that lady. But, as the reader will have perceived, he
had not been able to lead the conversation in any way; and he had
left Hadley without further light for the guidance of his steps in
that matrimonial path in which he had contemplated the expediency of
taking a leisurely evening stroll.

The wicked old miser had declared that George should not be his heir;
and had also said that which was tantamount to a similar declaration
regarding Caroline. She would have six thousand pounds, first and
last. Nothing more than a beggarly six thousand pounds, of which
two-thirds were already her own without thanks to any one. What a
wretched old miser! Who then would have his money? It would hardly be
possible that he would leave it all to Miss Baker. And yet he might.
It was just possible. Anything was possible with a capricious miserly
old fool like that. What a catch would it be if he, Sir Lionel, could
become the heir in so deliciously easy a manner!

But, in all probability, anything the old man might say was exactly
the opposite of that which he intended to do. He probably would leave
his money to Ge