"Should you like to go to the Forest with me?" he asked, when they turned the gable of the house and were sauntering across the side lawn where the great walnut-tree, which was the talk of all that part of the country, grew. As they walked under the spreading branches, Rupert looked up and sighed. He had a prevision that no Mortomley for ever should eat of the fruit again. There is an instinct which is as far beyond knowledge as omnipresence is beyond sight, and from the moment Mortomley succumbed to Mr. Forde, and adopted his tactics, Rupert felt his uncle's days of prosperity were at an end. Personally, he, Rupert Halling, could do no more good for any one by intermeddling in his uncle's affairs. And it was quite time he considered his own more fully, even than had been the case latterly. In his selfishness, however, he was good-natured, and offered to allow Lenore to accompany him, while he pursued his meditations and perfected his plans; at which offer Lenore, who had latterly been somewhat neglected by every one about the house, delightedly clapped her hands and shouted for joy. There had been a time when Mrs. Mortomley would have dreaded taking upon herself the responsibility of an interview with Messrs. Forde and Kleinwort. But that dread was over now. She was in the middle of the battle, and the Gerace nature knew no faltering when the trumpet sounded, and every man (or in default of man, woman) was called to do his best. After Lenore's departure there ensued a moment's silence. Mr. Forde was so lost in astonishment at the audacity of the whole family that he lacked power to give expression to his feelings. Mr. Kleinwort, having spoken, was thinking what he should say next, and Mrs. Mortomley was struggling between her repulsion against the man and her desire to offer some apology for a rudeness which had been as involuntary as irresistible. "I beg you to pardon my incivility," she began at last, bringing out her words with a slow reluctance which was almost perceptible. "Trouble does not tend to increase politeness." "That is indeed true," agreed Mr. Kleinwort, "but you must remember, madam, other people also are troubled with your troubles." "What is the use of talking in that way," interrupted Mr. Forde. "Do you suppose they care for anything or person but themselves? Do you imagine if Mr. Mortomley had the smallest consideration for us, he would be laid up at such a time as this?" "Do you think he is not really ill, then?" inquired Mrs. Mortomley. "I neither know nor care what he is," was the answer. "It is enough for us to be told we cannot see him,--and he will find it more than enough for him,--and you can tell him with my compliments that I say so." "Yes, bankruptcy is not all pleasure," remarked Mr. Kleinwort with a solemn shake of his round head. "At least it must be freedom," suggested Dolly.