Aunt Polly declared that such debts did not signify in the least.  Folking was not embarrassed.  Folking did not owe a shilling.  Every one knew that.  And there was Julia in his arms!  He never said that he would marry her; but when he left the linen-closet the two ladies understood that the thing was arranged.

Luckily for him aunt Polly had postponed this scene till the moment before his departure from the house.  He was at this time going to Cambridge, where he was to be the guest, for one night, of a certain Mr. Bolton, who was one of the very few friends to whom his father was still attached.  Mr. Bolton was a banker, living close to Cambridge, an old man now, with four sons and one daughter; and to his house John Caldigate was going in order that he might there discuss with Mr. Bolton certain propositions which had been made between him and his father respecting the Folking property.  The father had now realised the idea of buying his son out; and John himself, who had all the world and all his life before him, and was terribly conscious of the obligations which he owed to his friend Davis, had got into his head a notion that he would prefer to face his fortune with a sum of ready money, than to wait in absolute poverty for the reversion of the family estate.  He had his own ideas, and in furtherance of them he had made certain inquiries.  There was gold being found at this moment among the mountains of New South Wales, in quantities which captivated his imagination.  And this was being done in a most lovely spot, among circumstances which were in all respects romantic.  His friend, Richard Shand, who was also a Trinity man, was quite resolved to go out, and he was minded to accompany his friend.  In this way, and, as he thought, in this way only, could a final settlement be made with that most assiduous of attendants, Mr. Davis.  His mind was fully set upon New South Wales, and his little interview with his cousin Julia did not tend to bind him more closely to his own country, or to Babington, or to Folking.

Chapter II

Puritan Grange

Perhaps there had been a little treachery on the part of Mr. Davis, for he had, in a gently insinuating way, made known to the Squire the fact of those acceptances, and the additional fact that he was, through unforeseen circumstances, lamentably in want of ready money.  The Squire became eloquent, and assured Mr. Davis that he would not pay a penny to save either Mr. Davis or his son from instant imprisonment,—­or even from absolute starvation.  Then Mr. Davis shrugged his shoulders, and whispered the word, ‘Post-obits.’  The Squire, thereupon threatened to kick him out of the house, and, on the next day, paid a visit to his friend Mr. Bolton.  There had, after that, been a long correspondence between the father, the son, and Mr. Bolton, as to which John Caldigate said not a word to the Babingtons.  Had he been more communicative, he might have perhaps saved himself from that scene in the linen-closet.  As it was, when he started for Cambridge, nothing was known at Babington either of Mr. Davis or of the New South Wales scheme.