must
go up to town at once. I wonder how she got that idea into her head.
It makes me shudder to think of her in Boisingham," and he dropped his
face upon his hands and groaned in the bitterness of his heart.

"It is hard," he thought to himself; "here have I for years and years
been striving and toiling, labouring to become a respectable and
respected member of society, but always this old folly haunts my steps
and drags me down, and by heaven I believe that it will destroy me
after all." With a sigh he lifted his head, and taking a sheet of
paper wrote on it, "I have received your letter, and will come and see
you to-morrow or the next day." This note he placed in an envelope,
which he directed to the high-sounding name of Mrs. d'Aubigne, Rupert
St., Pimlico--and put it in his pocket.

Then with another sigh he took up the Squire's letter, and glanced
through it. Its length was considerable, but in substance it announced
his acceptance of the arrangement proposed by Mr. Edward Cossey, and
requested that he would prepare the necessary deeds to be submitted to
his lawyers. Mr. Quest read the letter absently enough, and threw it
down with a little laugh.

"What a queer world it is," he said to himself, "and what a ludicrous
side there is to it all. Here is Cossey advancing money to get a hold
over Ida de la Molle, whom he means to marry if he can, and who is
probably playing her own hand. Here is Belle madly in love with
Cossey, who will break her heart. Here am I loving Belle, who hates
me, and playing everybody's game in order to advance my own, and
become a respected member of a society I am superior to. Here is the
Squire blundering about like a walrus in a horse-pond, and fancying
everything is being conducted for his sole advantage, and that all the
world revolves round Honham Castle. And there at the end of the chain
is this female harpy, Edith Jones, otherwise d'Aubigne, alias the
Tiger, gnawing at my vitals and holding my fortunes in her hand.

"Bah! it's a queer world and full of combinations, but the worst of it
is that plot as we will the solution of them does not rest with us, no
--not with us."

CHAPTER XV

THE HAPPY DAYS

This is a troublesome world enough, but thanks to that mitigating fate
which now and again interferes to our advantage, there do come to most
of us times and periods of existence which, if they do not quite
fulfil all