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SATURDAY EVENING AND SUNDAY MORNING.
447

'You see, Frank, there are two sides to every question; and, as I take it, fellows are so apt to go wrong because they are so fond of one side, they won't look at the other. There's no doubt about it, Lady Arabella is a very clever woman, and knows what's what; and there's no doubt about this either, that you have a very ticklish hand of cards to play.'

'I'll play it straightforward; that's my game,' said Frank.

'Well and good,' my dear fellow. 'That's the best game always. But what is straightforward? Between you and me, I fear there's no doubt that your father's property has got into a deuce of a mess.'

'I don't see that that has anything to do with it.'

'Yes, but it has. If the estate was all right, and your father could give you a thousand a year to live on without feeling it, and if your eldest child would be cock sure of Greshamsbury, it might be very well that you should please yourself as to marrying at once. But that's not the case; and yet Greshamsbury is too good a card to be flung away.'

'I could fling it away to-morrow,' said Frank.

'Ah! you think so,' said Harry the Wise. 'But if you were to hear to-morrow that Sir Louis Scatcherd were master of the whole place, and be d—— to him, you would feel very uncomfortable.' Had Harry known how near Sir Louis was to his last struggle, he would not have spoken of him in this manner. 'That's all very fine talk, but it won't bear wear and tear. You do care for Greshamsbury if you are the fellow I take you to be: care for it, very much; and you care too for your father being Gresham of Greshamsbury.'

'This won't affect my father at all.'

'Ah, but it will affect him very much. If you were to marry Miss Thorne to-morrow, there would at once be an end to any hope of your saving the property.'

'And do you mean to say I'm to be a liar to her for such reasons as that? Why, Harry, I should be as bad as Moffat. Only it would be ten times more cowardly, as she has no brother.'

'I must differ from you there altogether; but mind, I don't mean to say anything. Tell me that you have made up your mind to marry her, and I'll stick to you through thick and thin. But if you ask my advice, why, I must give it. It is quite a different affair to that of Moffat's. He had lots of tin, everything he could want, and there could be no reason why he should not marry,—except that he was a snob, of whom your sister was well quit. But this is very different. If I, as your friend, were to put it to Miss Thorne, what do you think she would say herself?'