evoted by public
opinion to himself. After a year or two he might have looked
elsewhere,--but what was he to do in the meantime? He was well nigh
penniless, and in debt. So he wrote a letter to his uncle, the
parson.

It may be remembered that when the uncle and nephew last parted in
London there was not much love between them. From that day to this
they had not seen each other, nor had there been any communication
between them. The horses had been taken away and sold. The rector
had spoken to the ladies of his household more than once with great
bitterness of the young man's ingratitude; and they more than once
had spoken to the rector, with a woman's piteous tenderness, of the
young lord's poverty. But it was all sorrow and distress. For in
truth the rector could not be happy while he was on bad terms with
the head of his family. Then the young lord wrote as though there had
been nothing amiss between them. It had in truth all passed away from
his mind. This very liberal offer had been made to him. It amounted
to wealth in lieu of poverty,--to what would be comfortable wealth
even for an earl. Ten thousand a year was offered to him by his
cousin. Might he accept it? The rector took the letter in good part,
and begged his nephew to come at once to Yoxham. Whereupon the nephew
went to Yoxham.

"What does Sir William say?" asked the rector, who, in spite of
his disapproval of all that Sir William had done, felt that the
Solicitor-General was the man whose influence in the matter would
really prevail.

"He has said nothing as yet. He is out of town."

"Ten thousand a year! Who was it made the offer?"

"She made it herself."

"Lady Anna?"

"Yes;--Lady Anna. It is a noble offer."

"Yes, indeed. But then if she has no right to any of it, what does it
amount to?"

"But she has a right to all of it;--she and her mother between them."

"I shall never believe it, Frederic--never; and not the less so
because they now want to bind you to them by such a compromise as
this."

"I think you look at it in a wrong light, uncle Charles."

"Well;--well. I will say nothing more about it. I don't see why you
shouldn't take it,--I don't indeed. It ought all to have been yours.
Everybody says that. You'll have to buy land, and it won't give you
nearly so much then. I hope you'll buy land all the same, and I do
hope it will be properly settled when you marry. As to marrying, you
will be able to do much better than what you us