“But what? I suppose you mean to remind me that you are not doomed to bear with the wretchedness of Gillingham for ever. Of course you are not; but in the mean time there are the involvements,--O Atty, I hate to talk of, but you know that _there they are_. And then there is poor Sophy--so fond of you, so trusting and affectionate. It would not break her heart, I know, to hear of all this nonsense; but it would make her deuced miserable.” And the younger brother, a little overcome by the picture he had conjured up, stopped for a moment to recover himself. Very soon, however, he was at the old arguments again. “She wouldn’t have a pleasant time of it, of course. And as for Lady M., she would be less inclined than ever to give you anything of an allowance. You have ascertained that there are insurmountable impediments to raising money on the estates; and my mother--may her shadow never be less!--is a hale woman of, if I mistake not, forty-two. What do you say to your prospects? Inviting, eh? And just fancy what a blow it would be to the girls. Why, ever since it was all settled, and you wrote from Rome to tell us so, _their_ spirits, poor things, have been entirely kept up by the idea--by the hope, I mean--of a kind of occasional home at Fairleigh. They are very fond of Sophy; and, in short, Atty, if you could but make up your mind to give up--well, all your interests at Updown Paddocks, all would go on quite smoothly again. You could answer old Dub face to face without fear of consequences; and--and I don’t think you would regret it, Atty,”--laying his hand affectionately on his brother’s shoulder,--“I don’t indeed. I think it pays, don’t you, old fellow, making other people--I mean those that one’s fond of--jolly?” “Well, yes; I fancy it does,” Arthur said musingly; “and of course one hates this kind of thing. It’s nonsense, too, to suppose that I want to make any change--about little Sophy, I mean. Of course I wish to marry her, and if it’s only to be done by giving up Rough Diamond, why, I’ve no alternative. It _is_ a bore though; upon my soul it is! He is so certain to win! And then there’s all the nuisance of the talk with Mr. Duberly. I say, Horace, do be a good fellow, and help me out of this. It would do quite as well--ay, and better still--if you would settle the business for me.” “How do you mean ‘settle it’?” Horace asked. “Well, tell him you know that it’s all _bosh_; that there was no harm in life--you’d go bail for that--in my sometimes paying a visit of an afternoon, just to have a look at the stock, to Beacham at the Paddocks; and that--that, in short, the sooner I’m married the better.” “And how about the Rough Diamond?” asked Horace, who felt perhaps the least in the world suspicious regarding the destination of that promising animal.