“It is quite clear,” continued Lilburne, without heeding this interruption; “that the man, whatever his evidence, has not got sufficient proofs. If he had, he would go to the young men rather than you: it is evident that they would promise infinitely larger rewards than he could expect from yourself. Men are always more generous with what they expect than with what they have. All rogues know this. ‘Tis the way Jews and usurers thrive upon heirs rather than possessors; ‘tis the philosophy of post-obits. I dare say the man has found out the real witness of the marriage, but ascertained, also, that the testimony of that witness would not suffice to dispossess you. He might be discredited--rich men have a way sometimes of discrediting poor witnesses. Mind, he says nothing of the lost copy of the register--whatever may be the value of that document, which I am not lawyer enough to say--of any letters of your brother avowing the marriage. Consider, the register itself is destroyed--the clergyman dead. Pooh! make yourself easy.” “True,” said Mr. Beaufort, much comforted; “what a memory you have!” “Naturally. Your wife is my sister--I hate poor relations--and I was therefore much interested in your accession and your lawsuit. No--you may feel--at rest on this matter, so far as a successful lawsuit is concerned. The next question is, Will you have a lawsuit at all? and is it worth while buying this fellow? That I can’t say unless I see him myself.” “I wish to Heaven you would!” “Very willingly: ‘tis a sort of thing I like--I’m fond of dealing with rogues--it amuses me. This day week? I’ll be at your house--your proxy; I shall do better than Blackwell. And since you say you are wanted at the Lakes, go down, and leave all to me.” “A thousand thanks. I can’t say how grateful I am. You certainly are the kindest and cleverest person in the world.” “You can’t think worse of the world’s cleverness and kindness than I do,” was Lilburne’s rather ambiguous answer to the compliment. “But why does my sister want to see you?” “Oh, I forgot!--here is her letter. I was going to ask your advice in this too.” Lord Lilburne took the letter, and glanced over it with the rapid eye of a man accustomed to seize in everything the main gist and pith. “An offer to my pretty niece--Mr. Spencer--requires no fortune--his uncle will settle all his own--(poor silly old man!) All! Why that’s only L1000. a year. You don’t think much of this, eh? How my sister can even ask you about it puzzles me.” “Why, you see, Lilburne,” said Mr. Beaufort, rather embarrassed, “there is no question of fortune--nothing to go out of the family; and, really, Arthur is so expensive, and, if she were to marry well, I could not give her less than fifteen or twenty thousand pounds.” “Aha!--I see--every man to his taste: here a daughter--there a dowry. You are devilish fond of money, Beaufort. Any pleasure in avarice,--eh?”