as desolated to think of all the
murdered past.

CHAPTER XIX.

Henry Wimbush's long cigar burned aromatically. The "History of Crome"
lay on his knee; slowly he turned over the pages.

"I can't decide what episode to read you to-night," he said
thoughtfully. "Sir Ferdinando's voyages are not without interest. Then,
of course, there's his son, Sir Julius. It was he who suffered from the
delusion that his perspiration engendered flies; it drove him finally to
suicide. Or there's Sir Cyprian." He turned the pages more rapidly. "Or
Sir Henry. Or Sir George...No, I'm inclined to think I won't read about
any of these."

"But you must read something," insisted Mr. Scogan, taking his pipe out
of his mouth.

"I think I shall read about my grandfather," said Henry Wimbush, "and
the events that led up to his marriage with the eldest daughter of the
last Sir Ferdinando."

"Good," said Mr. Scogan. "We are listening."

"Before I begin reading," said Henry Wimbush, looking up from the
book and taking off the pince-nez which he had just fitted to his
nose--"before their begin, I must say a few preliminary words about Sir
Ferdinando, the last of the Lapiths. At the death of the virtuous and
unfortunate Sir Hercules, Ferdinando found himself in possession of the
family fortune, not a little increased by his father's temperance and
thrift; he applied himself forthwith to the task of spending it, which
he did in an ample and jovial fashion. By the time he was forty he had
eaten and, above all, drunk and loved away about half his capital, and
would infallibly have soon got rid of the rest in the same manner, if
he had not had the good fortune to become so madly enamoured of the
Rector's daughter as to make a proposal of marriage. The young lady
accepted him, and in less than a year had become the absolute mistress
of Crome and her husband. An extraordinary reformation made itself
apparent in Sir Ferdinando's character. He grew regular and economical
in his habits; he even became temperate, rarely drinking more than
a bottle and a half of port at a sitting. The waning fortune of the
Lapiths began once more to wax, and that in despite of the hard times
(for Sir Ferdinando married in 1809 in the height of the Napoleonic
Wars). A prosperous and dignified old age, cheered by the spectacle of
his children's growth and happiness--for Lady Lapith had already borne
him three daughters, and there seemed no good reason why she should not