It has been said that within two or three days after the communication he had left London.  He had done so in order that he might at once go down to Cheltenham and see his cousin.  There Miss Mountjoy lived, with her mother.

The time had been when Florence Mountjoy had been proud of her cousin, and, to tell the truth of her feelings, though she had never loved him, she had almost done so.  Rumors had made their way through even to her condition of life, and she in her innocence had gradually been taught to believe that Captain Scarborough was not a man whom she could be safe in loving.  And there had, perhaps, come another as to whom her feelings were different.  She had, no doubt, at first thought that she would be willing to become her cousin’s wife, but she had never said as much herself.  And now both her heart and mind were set against him.

Captain Scarborough, as he went down to Cheltenham, turned the matter over in his mind, thinking within himself how best he might carry out his project.  His intention was to obtain from his cousin an assurance of her love, and a promise that it should not be shaken by any stories which his father might tell respecting him.  For this purpose he he must make known to her the story his father had told him, and his own absolute disbelief in it.  Much else must be confided to her.  He must acknowledge in part his own debts, and must explain that his father had taken this course in order to defraud the creditors.  All this would be very difficult; but he must trust in her innocence and generosity.  He thought that the condition of his affairs might be so represented that the story should tend rather to win her heart toward him than to turn it away.  Her mother had hitherto always been in his favor, and he had, in fact, been received almost as an Apollo in the house at Cheltenham.

“Florence,” he said, “I must see you alone for a few minutes.  I know that your mother will trust you with me.”  This was spoken immediately on his arrival, and Mrs. Mountjoy at once left the room.  She had been taught to believe that it was her daughter’s duty to marry her cousin; and though she knew that the captain had done much to embarrass the property, she thought that this would be the surest way to settle him.  The heir of Tretton Park was, in her estimation, so great a man that very much was to be endured at his hands.

The meeting between the two cousins was very long, and when Mrs. Mountjoy at last returned unannounced to the room she found her daughter in tears.

“Oh, Florence, what is the matter?” asked her mother.

The poor girl said nothing, but still continued to weep, while the captain stood by looking as black as a thunder-cloud.

“What is it, Mountjoy?” said Mrs. Mountjoy, turning to him.

“I have told Florence some of my troubles,” said he, “and they seemed to have changed her mind toward me.”