That month of August was a very sad time indeed for Ralph the heir. With him all months were, we may say, idle months; but, as a rule, August was of all the most idle. Sometimes he would affect to shoot grouse, but hunting, not grouse-shooting, was his passion as a sportsman. He would leave London, and spend perhaps a couple of days with Mr. Horsball looking at the nags. Then he would run down to some sea-side place, and flirt and laugh and waste his time upon the sands. Or he would go abroad as far as Dieppe, or perhaps Biarritz, and so would saunter through the end of the summer. It must not be supposed of him that he was not fully conscious that this manner of life was most pernicious. He knew it well, knew that it would take him to the dogs, made faint resolves at improvement which he hardly for an hour hoped to be able to keep,—and was in truth anything but happy. This was his usual life;—and so for the last three or four years had he contrived to get through this month of August. But now the utmost sternness of business had come upon him. He was forced to remain in town, found himself sitting day after day in his lawyer\'s anteroom, was compelled to seek various interviews with Sir Thomas, in which it was impossible that Sir Thomas should make himself very pleasant; and,—worst of all,—was at last told that he must make up his own mind!

Squire Newton was also up in London; and though London was never much to his taste, he was in these days by no means so wretched as his nephew. He was intent on a certain object, and he began to hope, nay to think, that his object might be achieved. He had not once seen his nephew, having declared his conviction very strongly that it would be better for all parties that they should remain apart. His own lawyer he saw frequently, and Ralph\'s lawyer once, and Sir Thomas more than once or twice. There was considerable delay, but the Squire would not leave London till something was, if not settled, at any rate arranged, towards a settlement. And it was the expression of his will conveyed through the two lawyers which kept Ralph in London. What was the worth of Ralph\'s interest in the property? That was one great question. Would Ralph sell that interest when the price was fixed? That was the second question. Ralph, to whom the difficulty of giving an answer was as a labour of Hercules, staved off the evil day for awhile by declaring that he must know what was the price before he could say whether he would sell the article. The exact price could not be fixed. The lawyers combined in saying that the absolute sum of money to include all Ralph\'s interest in the estate could not be named that side of Christmas. It was not to be thought of that any actuary, or valuer, or lawyer, or conveyancer, should dispose of so great a matter by a month\'s work. But something approaching to a settlement might be made. A sum might be named as a minimum. And a compact might be made, subject to the arbitration of a sworn appraiser. A sum was named. The matter was carried so far, that Ralph was told that he could sign away all his rights by the middle of September,—sign away the entire property,—and have his pockets filled with ample funds for the Moonbeam, and all other delights. He might pay off Moggs and Neefit, and no longer feel that Polly,—poor dear Polly,—was a millstone round his neck. And he would indeed, in this event, be so well provided, that he did not for a moment doubt that, if he chose so to circumscribe himself, Clarissa Underwood might be his wife. All the savings of the Squire\'s life would be his,—enough, as the opposing lawyer told him with eager pressing words, to give him an estate of over a thousand a year at once. "And it may be more,—probably will be more," said the lawyer. But at the very least a sum approaching to thirty thousand pounds would be paid over to him at once. And he might do what he pleased with this. There was still a remnant of his own paternal property sufficient to pay his debts.

But why should a man whose encumbrances were so trifling, sacrifice prospects that were so glorious? Could he not part with a portion of the estate,—with the reversion of half of it, so that the house of Newton, Newton Priory, with its grouse and paddocks and adjacent farms, might be left to him? If the whole were saleable, surely so also must be the half. The third of the money offered to him would more than suffice for all his wants. No doubt he might sell the half,—but not to the Squire, nor could he effect such sale immediately as he would do if the Squire bought it, nor on such terms as were offered by the Squire. Money he might raise at once, certainly; but it became by degrees as a thing certain to him, that if once he raised money in that way, the estate would fly from him. His uncle was a hale man, and people told him that his own life was not so much better than his uncle\'s. His uncle had a great object, and if Ralph chose to sell at all, that fact would be worth thousands to him. But his uncle would not buy the reversion of half or of a portion of the property. The Squire at last spoke his mind freely on this matter to Sir Thomas. "It shall never be cast in my son\'s teeth," he said, "that his next neighbour is the real man. Early in life I made a mistake, and I have had to pay for it ever since. I am paying for it now, and must pay for it to the end. But my paying for it will be of small service if my boy has to pay for it afterwards." Sir Thomas understood him and did not press the point.

Ralph was nearly driven wild with the need of deciding. Moggs\'s bill at two months was coming due, and he knew that he could expect no mercy there. To Neefit\'s establishment in Conduit Street he had gone once, and had had words,—as Waddle had told to his rival. Neefit was still persistent in his wishes,—still urgent that Newton should go forth to Hendon like a man, and "pop" at once. "I\'ll tell you what, Captain," said he;—he had taken to calling Ralph Captain, as a goodly familiar name, feeling, no doubt, that Mister was cold between father-in-law and son-in-law, and not quite daring to drop all reverential title;—"if you\'re a little hard up, as I know you are, you can have three or four hundred if you want it." Ralph did want it sorely. "I know how you stand with old Moggs," said Neefit, "and I\'ll see you all right there." Neefit was very urgent. He too had heard something of these dealings among the lawyers. To have his Polly Mrs. Newton of Newton Priory! The prize was worth fighting for. "Don\'t let them frighten you about a little ready money, Captain. If it comes to that, other folk has got ready money besides them."

"Your trust in me surprises me," said Ralph. "I already owe you money which I can\'t pay you."

"I know where to trust, and I know where not to trust. If you\'ll once say as how you\'ll pop the question to Polly, fair and honest, on the square, you shall have five hundred;—bless me, if you shan\'t. If she don\'t take you after all, why then I must look for my money by-and-bye. If you\'re on the square with me, Captain, you\'ll never find me hard to deal with."

"I hope I shall be on the square, at any rate."

"Then you step out to her and pop." Hereupon Ralph made a long and intricate explanation of his affairs, the object of which was to prove to Mr. Neefit that a little more delay was essential. He was so environed by business and difficulties at the present moment that he could take no immediate step such as Mr. Neefit suggested,—no such step quite immediately. In about another fortnight, or in a month at the furthest, he would be able to declare his purpose. "And how about Moggs?" said Neefit, putting his hands into his breeches-pocket, pulling down the corners of his mouth, and fixing his saucer eyes full upon the young man\'s face. So he stood for some seconds, and then came the words of which Waddle had spoken. Neefit could not disentangle the intricacies of Ralph\'s somewhat fictitious story; but he had wit enough to know what it meant. "You ain\'t on the square, Captain. That\'s what you ain\'t," he said at last. It must be owned that the accusation was just, and it was made so loudly that Waddle did not at all exaggerate in saying that there had been words. Nevertheless, when Ralph left the shop Neefit relented. "You come to me, Captain, when Moggs\'s bit of stiff comes round."

A few days after that Ralph went to Sir Thomas, with the object of declaring his decision;—at least Sir Thomas understood that such was to be the purport of the visit. According to his ideas there had been quite enough of delay. The Squire had been liberal in his offer; and though the thing to be sold was in all its bearings so valuable, though it carried with it a value which, in the eyes of Sir Thomas,—and, indeed, in the eyes of all Englishmen,—was far beyond all money price, though the territorial position was, for a legitimate heir, almost a principality; yet, when a man cannot keep a thing, what can he do but part with it? Ralph had made his bed, and he must lie upon it. Sir Thomas had done what he could, but it had all amounted to nothing. There was this young man a beggar,—but for this reversion which he had now the power of selling. As for that mode of extrication by marrying the breeches-maker\'s daughter,—that to Sir Thomas was infinitely the worst evil of the two. Let Ralph accept his uncle\'s offer and he would still be an English gentleman, free to live as such, free to marry as such, free to associate with friends fitting to his habits of life. And he would be a gentleman, too, with means sufficing for a gentleman\'s wants. But that escape b............