love, and there was an end of it--and an end of Horace too! Horace
had to suffer. He did suffer.

Perhaps it was for his highest welfare that other matters came to
monopolize his mind. One sorrow drives out another. If you sit on
a pin you are apt to forget that you have the toothache. The
earthenware manufactory was not going well. Plenty of business was
being done, but not at the right prices. Crushed between the upper
and nether millstones of the McKinley Tariff and German
competition, Horace, in company with other manufacturers, was
breathing out his life's blood in the shape of capital. The truth
was that he had never had enough capital. He had heavily mortgaged
the house at Toft End in order to purchase his partners' shares in
the business and have the whole undertaking to himself, and he
profoundly regretted it. He needed every penny that he could
collect; the strictest economy was necessary if he meant to
survive the struggle. And here he was paying eight pounds a week
to a personage purely ornamental, after having squandered hundreds
in rendering that personage comfortable! The situation was
dreadful.

You may ask, Why did he not explain the situation to Sidney? Well,
partly because he was too kind, and partly because he was too
proud, and partly because Sidney would not have understood. Horace
fought on, keeping up a position in the town and hoping that
miracles would occur.

Then Ella's expectations were realized. Sidney and she had some
twenty thousand pounds to play with. And they played the most
agreeable games. But not in Bursley. No. They left Horace in