my real suffering lies. It is less the
loss of fortune I deplore, than the world's judgment on having so long
usurped that we had no right to."

From the day he read Sedley's letter and held that conversation with the
lawyer, in which he heard that the claimant's case seemed a very strong
one, and that perhaps the Bram-leighs had nothing to oppose to it of so
much weight as the great fact of possession,--from that hour he took a
despairing view of the case. There are men who at the first reverse of
fortune throw down their cards and confess themselves beaten. There are
men who can accept defeat itself better than meet the vacillating events
of a changeful destiny; who have no persistence in their courage, nor
any resources to meet the coming incidents of life. Augustus Bramleigh
possessed a great share of this temperament. It is true that Sedley,
after much persuasion, induced him to entertain the idea of a
compromise, carefully avoiding the use of that unhappy word, and
substituting for it the less obnoxious expression "arrangement." Now
this same arrangement, as Mr. Sedley put it, was a matter which
concerned the Bramleighs collectively,--seeing that if the family
estates were to be taken away, nothing would remain to furnish a
provision for younger children. "You must ascertain what your brothers
will do," wrote Sedley; "you must inquire how far Lord Culduff--who
through his marriage has a rent-charge on the estate--will be willing to
contribute to an 'arrangement.'"

Nothing could be less encouraging than the answer this appeal called
forth. Lord Culduff wrote back in the tone of an injured man, all
but declaring that he had been regularly taken in; indeed, he did not
scruple to aver that it had never been his intention to embark in a ship
that was sure to founder, and he threw out something like a rebuke on
the indelicacy of asking him to add to the sacrifice he had already made
for the honor of being allied to them.

Temple's note ran thus:--

Dear Gusty,--If your annoyances have not affected your brain, I am at a
loss for an explanation of your last letter. How, I would ask you, is
a poor secretary of legation to subsist on the beggarly pittance F.
O. affords him? Four hundred and fifty per annum is to supply rent,
clothes, club expenses, a stall at the opera, and one's little charities
in perhaps one of the dearest capitals in Europe. So far from expecting
the demands you have made upon me, I actually, at t