“Should depart from it forever,” said the squire, in a low, sorrow-stricken voice. “A pity! Yes! But so it must be! Bradstone, having told you this much, I may--indeed, it is my duty to--tell you all. You see before you a man who is a living lie”--his voice broke--“a sham and a counterfeit, the Squire of Hawkwood who cannot give his daughter a poor thousand pounds as a wedding present, the lord of the manor every acre of which he is in hourly danger of losing. Bradstone, I am weighed down, sunk to my neck in debt, and the Grange may at any moment be in the bailiff’s hands.” He did not drop into a chair or burst into tears, did not even utter a groan, but stood with pale, set face and steady, unflinching eyes--the aristocrat even in this moment of his deepest humiliation, the humiliation of having to confess his ruin to this parvenu, would-be son-in-law. Bartley Bradstone looked at him with the grudging admiration of a vulgar mind for that higher type which it can never hope even to imitate; how he would have sighed and groaned and groveled if he had had to make such a confession! “There is my case,” said the squire, after a moment’s pause. “And I shall not deem you selfish or unreasonable if, after having heard it, you withdraw your proposal, Bradstone.” “But I do not do anything of the sort,” said Bartley Bradstone. “I repeat it. It makes no difference to me, sir--not a bit. As to the estate going, I’m not so sure that that can’t be prevented.” The squire shook his head sadly. “Oh, I don’t know,” said Bartley Bradstone, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “I’m not so sure of that. And now, sir, let me imitate your candor. You’ve told me how you stand; I’ll tell you my position. I believe--it’s difficult to calculate exactly--that I’m worth three-quarters of a million, more or less, and I should think----” The squire raised his brows. “Yes, that’s about the figure. Now, if Olivia says ‘Yes,’ if she accepts me, I’m prepared to settle fifty thousand pounds upon her for her life, for her own, you know, and I’ll give her The Maples, too. If that isn’t enough, if you think that it ought to be more----” The squire’s pale face went crimson, and he made a gesture of repudiation. “No, no! It is most liberal, most generous,” he said, and for the first time his voice quivered. “It is too large a settlement for a portionless girl----” “Not for my wife,” said Bartley Bradstone, with a charming self consequence which made the poor old squire shudder inwardly. “A man who is worth three-quarters of a million doesn’t miss fifty thou. In fact, I expect that your lawyer fellows will want a great deal more than that----” The squire reddened. “My lawyers will express my sentiments, Bradstone,” he said, quietly. Bartley Bradstone bit his lip.