with the bankruptcy that's a-coming,'--but he
wouldn't--he went on like an old Bengal tiger, roaring about his honour;
he paid the bills every shilling--infernal long bills they were, and
it's my belief that, at this minute, he ain't got fifty pounds a year
of his own to spend. I would send him back my commission--I would by
Jove--only times is so bad, and that rascal Levant let me in. It went to
my heart to take the old cock's money--but it's gone--that and ever
so much more--and Lady Whittlesea's Chapel too, Mr. P. Hang that young
Levant."

Squeezing my hand after this speech, Sherrick ran across the street
after some other capitalist who was entering the Diddlesex Insurance
Office, and left me very much grieved and dismayed at finding that my
worst fears in regard to Thomas Newcome were confirmed. Should we confer
with his wealthy family respecting the Colonel's impoverished condition?
Was his brother Hobson Newcome aware of it? As for Sir Barnes, the
quarrel between him and his uncle had been too fierce to admit of hopes
of relief from that quarter. Barnes had been put to very heavy expenses
in the first contested election; had come forward again immediately on
his uncle's resignation, but again had been beaten by a more liberal
candidate, his quondam former friend, Mr. Higg--who formally declared
against Sir Barnes, and who drove him finally out of the representation
of Newcome. From this gentleman it was vain of course for Colonel
Newcome's friends to expect relief.

How to aid him? He was proud--past work--nearly seventy years old. "Oh,
why did those cruel Academicians refuse Clive's pictures?" cries Laura.
"I have no patience with them--had the pictures been exhibited I know
who might have bought them--but that is vain now. He would suspect at
once, and send her money away. Oh, Pen! why, why didn't he come when I
wrote that letter to Brussels?"

From persons so poorly endowed with money as ourselves, any help, but
of the merest temporary nature, was out of the question. We knew our
friends too well not to know that they would disdain to receive it. It
was agreed between me and Laura that at any rate I should go and see
Clive. Our friends indeed were at a very short distance from us, and,
having exiled themselves from England, could yet see its coasts
from their windows upon any clear day. Boulogne was their present
abiding-place--refuge of how many thousands of other unfortunate
Britons--and to this friendly