Meanwhile Henry found plenty of other things to occupy him. For the first time he went thoroughly into the affairs of the estate, and was shocked to discover, firstly, the way at once extravagant and neglectful in which it had been administered, and secondly, the total amount of its indebtedness. It was in connection with this painful subject that, about a week after Joan’s departure, Henry sought an interview with Mr. Levinger. It chanced that another half-year’s interest on the mortgages was due, also that some money had been paid in to the credit of the estate on account of the year’s rents. About the same time there arrived the usual formal letter from Mr. Levinger, addressed to the executor of Sir Reginald Graves deceased, politely demanding payment of the interest owing for the current half-year, and calling attention to the sums overdue, amounting in all to several thousand pounds. Henry stared at the total and sighed. How was he to meet these overwhelming liabilities? It seemed impossible that things should be allowed to go on like this; and yet what was to be done? In the issue he wrote a note to Mr. Levinger, asking him to call whenever it might be convenient, as unfortunately he was not able to wait on him. On the morrow Mr. Levinger arrived, about eleven o’clock in the morning; indeed, he had expected some such summons, and was holding himself in readiness to obey it. Nor did he come alone, for, Ellen having learned the contents of Henry’s letter, had supplemented it by a note to Emma, inviting her to lunch on the same day, giving, as an excuse, that she wished particularly to consult her upon some matters connected with dress. This invitation Emma was very unwilling to accept, for reasons known to herself and the reader, but in the end her father overruled her, and she consented to accompany him. Henry was carried downstairs for the first time on the day of their visit, and, seating himself in the invalid chair, was wheeled into the library. A few minutes later Mr. Levinger arrived, and greeted him with the refined and gentle courtesy which was one of his characteristics, congratulating him on the progress that he had made towards recovery. “Thank you,” said Henry, “I am perfectly well except for this wretched leg of mine, which, I fear, will keep me cooped up for some weeks to come, though I hope to get out a little in the chair. I can’t say that you look very well, however, Mr. Levinger. You seem thinner and paler than when we last met.” “My health has not been grand for years, Graves, and I am sorry to say that it gets steadily worse. Heart trouble, you know; and that is not a pleasant thing for a man to have, especially,” he added significantly, “if his worldly affairs are in an unsettled condition. I have been a good deal worried of late, and it has told upon me. The truth is that my life is most precarious, and the sooner I can reconcile myself to the fact the better.”