Caresfoot, whose outraged pride and womanly jealousy had done him such
yeoman service.

Speaking seriously, he had great cause for rejoicing. Instead of a
comparatively slender younger son's portion, he had stepped into a
fine and unencumbered property of over five thousand a year, and that
in the heyday of his youth, when in the full possession of all his
capacities for enjoyment, which were large indeed. Henceforth
everything that money could buy would be his, including the respect
and flattery of his poorer neighbours. An added flavour too was given
to the overflowing cup of his good fortune by the fact that it had
been wrenched from the hands of the cousin whom he hated, and on whom
he had from a boy sworn to be avenged. Poor Philip! bankrupt in honour
and broken in fortune, he could afford to pity him now, to pity him
ostentatiously and in public. He was open-handed with his pity was
George. Nor did he lack a sympathizer in these delicious moments of
unexpected triumph.

"Did I not tell you," said Mrs. Bellamy, in her full, rich tones, on
the afternoon of the reading of the will--"did I not tell you that, if
you would consent to be guided by me, I would pull you through, and
have I not pulled you through? Never misdoubt my judgment again, my
dear George; it is infinitely sounder than your own."

"You did, Anne, you certainly did; you are a charming woman, and as
clever as you are charming."

"Compliments are all very well, and I am sure I appreciate yours"--and
she gave a little curtsey--"at their proper value; but I must remind
you, George, that I have done my part of the bargain, and that now you