tspurs were, he thought, too high and too holy for such future
chance; and in such case, for one generation at least, the Hotspurs
would be in abeyance. No: it was not that which he desired. That
would not suffice for him. The son-in-law that he desired should be
well born, a perfect gentleman, with belongings of whom he and his
child might be proud; but he should be one who should be content to
rest his claims to material prosperity and personal position on the
name and wealth that he would obtain with his wife. Lord Alfred had
been the very man; but then his girl would have none of Lord Alfred!
Eldest sons there might be in plenty ready to take such a bride; and
were some eldest son to come to him and ask for his daughter's hand,
some eldest son who would do so almost with a right to claim it if
the girl's consent were gained, how could he refuse? And yet to leave
a Hotspur behind him living at Humblethwaite, and Hotspurs who should
follow that Hotspur, was all in all to him.

Might he venture to think once again of Cousin George? Cousin George
was there, coming to the house, and his wife was telling him that
it was incumbent on them to ask the young man to dinner. It was
incumbent on them, unless they meant to let him know that he was to
be regarded absolutely as a stranger,--as one whom they had taken
up for a while, and now chose to drop again. A very ugly story had
reached Sir Harry's ears about Cousin George. It was said that he
had twice borrowed money from the money-lenders on his commission,
passing some document for security of its value which was no
security, and that he had barely escaped detection, the two Jews
knowing that the commission would be forfeited altogether if the
fraud were brought to light. The commission had been sold, and the
proceeds divided between the Jews, with certain remaining claims to
them on Cousin George's personal estate. Such had been the story
which in a vague way had reached Sir Harry's ears. It is not easily
that such a man as Sir Harry can learn the details of a disreputable
cousin's life. Among all his old friends he had none more dear to him
than Lord Milnthorp; and among his younger friends none more intimate
than Lord Burton, the eldest son of Lord Milnthorp, Lord Alfred's
brother. Lord Burton had told him the story, telling him at the same
time that he could not vouch for its truth. "Upon my word, I don't
know," said Lord Burton, when interrogated again. "I think if I we