His worthy descendant had gone even more rapidly to work, staked all on a "chance" and lost—lost the estates which had been in the family since the reign of Edward the Fourth—lost his head—his hopes—his honour. The next mail brought still heavier news to a certain good-looking subaltern in barracks at Gibraltar. Lola wrote formally to dissolve her engagement. She was about to marry Mr. Reuben Waldershare, one of her father's creditors, who would cancel his debt, and buy back Earlsmead. Thus she saved her parent, and averted ruin from her people. Mr. Waldershare was enormously rich and generous. Philip succeeded in obtaining leave on urgent private affairs that same hour, and journeyed to England that same night. * * * * * The Craven-Hargreaves had taken a house in London for the season. At four o'clock in the afternoon Gascoigne presented himself at 146 Mount Street, and inquired for Miss Hargreaves. The man—who was not an Earlsmead servant, and knew not Master Philip—said: "Yes, sir, Miss Hargreaves is at home. Who shall I say?" and he preceded the visitor up the stairs, and ushered him into a pretty green and white drawing-room with a resonant—"Mr. Gascoigne, if you please." Secretly, the lady did not please. Lola was alone, sitting on a low sofa, with her back to the light, and surrounded by morocco and velvet jewel-cases. She was dressed in a white gown, and wore a large picture hat, her gloves and parasol lay on a chair near her, and in her hands she held a row of great pearls. A tea equipage waited, the spirit-lamp flamed, and Lola's toilette betokened careful thought. The room was fragrant with exquisite La France roses, an arm-chair was drawn up invitingly near the sofa—evidently some one was expected, but obviously that some one was not Philip Gascoigne. "Philip," she almost screamed, as the door closed and she rose to her feet, her face white to the lips, "_what_ has brought you?" "You can easily guess," he replied, as he came forward; "your letter." "Yes—of course," and she held out both her hands; "but, oh, why did you come?—it only makes it harder." "You are talking in riddles," he answered sharply. "I want you to tell me the truth—face to face. Why do you wish to break off our engagement? Why does my return make anything _worse_?" "Because—seeing you brings everything back—and I am going to marry Mr. Waldershare." She turned away and averted her face to hide her emotion. A long silence followed this announcement, and at last Philip said: "Well, I don't suppose anything could be worse than that!" As he spoke, Lola sank back on the sofa, and stealthily displaced some of the jewel-cases under the big brocade cushions. "Will you listen to me?" she said piteously. "Oh, yes, I am here to listen. I have come a thousand miles since Monday to listen—and to speak." "Phil, when you hear all you will be twice as sorry for me as you are for yourself. Do you know that we are ruined?"