e of the handsome
Englishman.'

'Pooh! I remember when I left England before, I had no wife then, no
child, but I remembered who I was, and when I thought I was the last of
our race, and that I was in all probability going to spill the little
blood that was spared of us in a foreign soil, oh, Constance, I do not
think I ever could forget the agony of that moment. Had it been for
England, I would have met my fate without a pang. No! Constance, I am an
Englishman: I am proud of being an Englishman. My fathers helped to make
this country what it is; no one can deny that; and no consideration in
the world shall ever induce me again to quit this island.'

'But suppose we do not quit England. Suppose we buy a small estate and
live at home.'

'A small estate at home! A small, new estate! Bought of a Mr. Hopkins,
a great tallow-chandler, or some stock-jobber about to make a new flight
from a Lodge to a Park. Oh no! that would be too degrading.'

'But suppose we keep one of our own manors?'

'And be reminded every instant of every day of those we have lost; and
hear of the wonderful improvements of our successors. I should go mad.'

'But suppose we live in London?'

'Where?'

'I am sure I do not know; but I should think we might get a nice little
house somewhere.'

'In a suburb! a fitting lodgment for Lady Armine. No! at any rate we
will have no witnesses to our fall.'

'But could not we try some place near my father's?'

'And be patronised by the great family with whom I had the good fortune
of being connected. No! my dear Constance, I like your father very well,
but I could not stand his eleemosynary haunches of venison, and great
baskets of apples and cream-cheeses sent with the housekeeper's duty.'

'But what shall we do, dear Ratcliffe?'

'My love, there is no resisting fate. We must live or die at Armine,
even if we starve.'

'Perhaps something will turn up. I dreamed the other night that dear
Ferdinand married an heiress. Suppose he should? What do you think?'

'Why, even then, that he would not be as lucky as his father. Good
night, love!'

CHAPTER VII.

_Containing an Unexpected Visit to London, and Its
Consequences._

THE day after the conversation in the library to which Glastonbury
had been an unwilling listener, he informed his friends that it was
necessary for him to visit the metropolis; and as young Ferdinand had
never yet seen London, he proposed that he should accompany h