re
you I would regard it as though I had never heard it. Of course, he
was in debt."

"That is altogether another thing," said Sir Harry.

"Altogether! I think that probably he did pawn his commission. That
is bad, but it isn't so very bad. As for the other charge against
him, I doubt it." So said Lord Burton, and Sir Harry determined that
the accusation should go for nothing.

But his own child, his only child, the transmitter of all the great
things that fortune had given to him; she, in whose hands were to lie
the glories of Humblethwaite and Scarrowby; she, who had the giving
away of the honour of their ancient family,--could she be trusted
to one of whom it must be admitted that all his early life had been
disreputable, even if the world's lenient judgment in such matters
should fail to stigmatize it as dishonourable? In other respects,
however, he was so manifestly the man to whom his daughter ought to
be given in marriage! By such arrangement would the title and the
property be kept together,--and by no other which Sir Harry could
now make, for his word had been given to his daughter that she was
to be his heiress. Let him make what arrangements he might, this
Cousin George, at his death, would be the head of the family. Every
"Peerage" that was printed would tell the old story to all the world.
By certain courtesies of the law of descent his future heirs would be
Hotspurs were his daughter married to Lord Alfred or the like; but
the children of such a marriage would not be Hotspurs in very truth,
nor by any courtesy of law, or even by any kindness of the Minister
or Sovereign, could the child of such a union become the baronet,
the Sir Harry of the day, the head of the family. The position was
one which no Sovereign and no Minister could achieve, or touch, or
bestow. It was his, beyond the power of any earthly potentate to
deprive him of it, and would have been transmitted by him to a son
with as absolute security. But--alas! alas!

Sir Harry gave no indication that he thought it expedient to change
his mind on the subject. When Lady Elizabeth proposed that Cousin
George should be asked to dinner, he frowned and looked black as he
acceded; but, in truth, he vacillated. The allurements on that side
were so great that he could not altogether force upon himself the
duty of throwing them from him. He knew that Cousin George was no
fitting husband for his girl, that he was a man to whom he would not
have though