demise of an incurable invalid, he, though an excellent
husband and father, could scarcely be taught to imagine that the Jocelyn
object of his bargain was attained. He had the semblance of wealth,
without the personal glow which absolute possession brings. It was his
habit to call himself a poor man, and it was his dream that Rose should
marry a rich one. Harry was hopeless. He had been his Grandmother's pet
up to the years of adolescence: he was getting too old for any prospect
of a military career he had no turn for diplomacy, no taste for any of
the walks open to blood and birth, and was in headlong disgrace with the
fountain of goodness at Beckley Court, where he was still kept in the
tacit understanding that, should Juliana inherit the place, he must be
at hand to marry her instantly, after the fashion of the Jocelyns. They
were an injured family; for what they gave was good, and the commercial
world had not behaved honourably to them. Now, Ferdinand Laxley was just
the match for Rose. Born to a title and fine estate, he was evidently
fond of her, and there had been a gentle hope in the bosom of Sir Franks
that the family fatality would cease, and that Rose would marry both
money and blood.

From this happy delusion poor Sir Franks was awakened to hear that his
daughter had plighted herself to the son of a tradesman: that, as the
climax to their evil fate, she who had some blood and some money of
her own--the only Jocelyn who had ever united the two--was desirous of
wasting herself on one who had neither. The idea was so utterly opposed
to the principles Sir Franks had been trained in, that his intellect
could not grasp it. He listened to his sister, Mrs. Shorne: he listened
to his wife; he agreed with all they said, though what they said was
widely diverse: he consented to see and speak to Evan, and he did so,
and was much the most distressed. For Sir Franks liked many things in
life, and hated one thing alone--which was 'bother.' A smooth world
was his delight. Rose knew this, and her instruction to Evan was: 'You
cannot give me up--you will go, but you cannot give me up while I am
faithful to you: tell him that.' She knew that to impress this fact
at once on the mind of Sir Franks would be a great gain; for in his
detestation of bother he would soon grow reconciled to things monstrous:
and hearing the same on both sides, the matter would assume an
inevitable shape to him. Mr. Second Fiddle had no difficulty in