"No, I am speaking quite rationally. I know what you would say; but if I was starving I would not accept one shilling from Lord Sartoris. That would be impossible. You can understand why, without my going into that infamous scandal. I suppose I can sell Sartoris, and pay my--that is, Sawyer's--debts; but that will leave me a beggar." Then, in a low tone, "I should hardly care, but for her. That is almost more than I can bear." "You say this debt of fifteen thousand pounds is the one that presses hardest?" "Yes. But for that, I might, by going in for strict economy, manage to retrieve my present position in a year or two." "I wish you would explain more fully," says Sir James; whereupon Dorian enters into an elaborate explanation that leaves all things clear. "It seems absurd," says Scrope, impatiently, "that you, the heir to an earldom and unlimited wealth, should be made so uncomfortable for the sake of a paltry fifteen thousand pounds." "I hardly think my wealth unlimited," says Branscombe; "there is a good deal of property not entailed, and the ready money is at my uncle's own disposal. You know, perhaps, that he has altered his will in favor of Horace,--has, in fact, left him everything that it is possible to leave?" "This is all new to me," says Sir James, indignantly. "If it is true, it is the most iniquitous thing I ever heard in my life." "It is true," says Branscombe, slowly. "Altogether, in many ways, I have been a good deal wrong; and the money part of it has not hurt me the most." "If seven thousand pounds would be of any use to you," says Scrope, gently, delicately, "I have it lying idle. It will, indeed, be a great convenience if you will take it at a reasonable----" "That is rather unkind of you," says Dorian, interrupting him hastily. "Don't say another word on that subject. I shall sink or swim without aid from my friends,--aid, I mean, of that sort. In other ways you can help me. Harden will, of course, see to the estate; but there are other, more private matters, that I would intrust to you alone. Am I asking too much?" "Don't be unkind in your own turn," says Scrope, with tears in his eyes. "Thank you," says Dorian, simply. His heart seems quite broken. "What of your wife?" asks Sir James, with some hesitation. "Does she know?" "I think not. Why should she be troubled before her time? It will come fast enough. She made a bad match, after all, poor child! But there is one thing I must tell you, and it is the small drop of comfort in my cup. About a month ago, Lord Sartoris settled upon her twenty thousand pounds, and that will keep her at least free from care. When I am gone, I want you to see to her, and let me know, from time to time, that she is happy and well cared for." "But will she consent to this separation from you, that may last for years?"