“But how comes it that the Haughtons, my grandfather Haughton, I suppose, would do nothing for his own kinswoman?” “It was not your grandfather Robert Haughton, who was a generous man,--he was then a mere youngster, hiding himself for debt,--but your great--grandfather, who was a hard man and on the turf. He never had money to give,--only money for betting. He left the Haughton estates sadly clipped. But when Robert succeeded, he came forward, was godfather to our Mr. Darrell, insisted on sharing the expense of sending him to Eton, where he became greatly distinguished; thence to Oxford, where he increased his reputation; and would probably have done more for him, only Mr. Darrell, once his foot on the ladder, wanted no help to climb to the top.” “Then my grandfather, Robert, still had the Haughton estates? Their last relics had not been yet transmuted by Mr. Cox into squares and a paragon?” “No; the grand old mansion, though much dilapidated, with its park, though stripped of salable timber, was still left with a rental from farms that still appertained to the residence, which would have sufficed a prudent man for the luxuries of life, and allowed a reserve fund to clear off the mortgages gradually. Abstinence and self-denial for one or two generations would have made a property, daily rising in value as the metropolis advanced to its outskirts, a princely estate for a third. But Robert Haughton, though not on the turf, had a grand way of living; and while Guy Darrell went into the law to make a small patrimony a large fortune, your father, my dear young sir, was put into the Guards to reduce a large patrimony--into Mr. Cox’s distillery.” Lionel coloured, but remained silent. Fairthorn, who was as unconscious in his zest of narrator that he was giving pain as an entomologist in his zest for collecting when he pins a live moth in his cabinet, resumed: “Your father and Guy Darrell were warm friends as boys and youths. Guy was the elder of the two, and Charlie Haughton (I beg your pardon, he was always called Charlie) looked up to him as to an elder brother. Many’s the scrape Guy got him out of; and many a pound, I believe, when Guy had some funds of his own, did Guy lend to Charlie.” “I am very sorry to hear that,” said Lionel, sharply. Fairthorn looked frightened. “I ‘m afraid I have made a blunder. Don’t tell Mr. Darrell.” “Certainly not; I promise. But how came my father to need this aid, and how came they at last to quarrel?”