of unpleasantness between Sir Henry and his
wife besides her inclination for dancing. Sir Henry had now paid one
half-year's interest on the sum of money which had been lent to him
by the old gentleman at Hadley, and had been rather disgusted at
finding that it was taken as a matter of course. He was not at the
present moment by any means over-burdened with money. His constant
devotion to politics interfered considerably with his practice. He
was also perhaps better known as a party lawyer than as a practical
or practising one; and thus, though his present career was very
brilliant, it was not quite so profitable as he had hoped. Most
lawyers when they begin to devote themselves to politics have
secured, if not fortune, at least the means of making it. And, even
at his age, Sir Henry might have been said to have done this had his
aspirations been in any way moderate. But they were not moderate. He
wished to shine with extreme brilliancy; to live up to the character
for wealth which the world gave him; and to give it out as a fact to
be understood by all men that he was to be the heir of the Hadley
Croesus.

There was, perhaps, a certain wisdom in this, a wisdom of a dashing
chancy nature. Fortune favours the brave; and the world certainly
gives the most credit to those who are able to give an unlimited
credit to themselves. But there was certainly risk in the life he
led. The giving of elegant little dinners two or three times a week
in London is an expensive amusement--and so he began to be very
anxious about the old gentleman.

But what was he to do that he might get near those money-bags? There
was the game. What best sportsman's dodge might he use so as to get
it into his bag? Perhaps to do nothing, to use no sportsman's dodge
would have been the best. But then it is so hard to do nothing when
so much might be gained by doing something very well.

Sir Henry, duly instructed as to the weaknesses customary to old men,
thought his wife would be his best weapon--his surest dodge. If she
could be got to be attentive and affectionate to her grandfather, to
visit him, and flatter him, and hover about him, much might be done.
So thought Sir Henry. But do what he might, Lady Harcourt would not
assist him. It was not part of her bargain that she should toady an
old man who had never shown any special regard for her.

"I think you ought to go down to Hadley," Sir Henry said to her one
morning.

"What, to stay there?" s