And now, with his cup of coffee before him, aromatic, creamy, and hot, with a filleted sole rolled up before him on a little dish, three or four plover’s eggs, on which to finish, lying by, and, on the distance of the table, a chasse of brandy, of which he already well knew the virtues, he got his father’s letter.  He did not at first open it, disliking all thoughts as to his father.  Then gradually he tore the envelope, and was slow in understanding the full meaning of the last lines.  He did not at once perceive the irony of “his brother’s kindly interference,” and of the “generosity” which had enabled him, Mountjoy, to be a recipient of property.  But his father purposed to do something for his benefit.  Gradually it dawned upon him that his father could only do that something effectually because of his brother’s dealings with the creditors.

Then the chairs and the tables, and the gem or two, and the odd volumes, one by one, made themselves intelligible.  That a father should write so to one son, and should so write of another, was marvellous.  But then his father was a marvellous man, whose character he was only beginning to understand.  His father, he told himself, had, fortunately, taken it into his head to hate Augustus, and intended, in consequence, to strip Tretton and the property generally of all their outside personal belongings.

Yes; he thought that, with such an object before him, he would certainly go and see Mr. Grey.  And if Mr. Grey should so advise him he would go down to Tretton.  On such business as this he would consent to see his father.  He did not think that just at present he need have recourse to his pistol for his devices.  He could not on the very day go to Tretton, as it would be necessary that he should write to his father first.  His brother would probably extend his hospitality for a couple of days when he should hear of the proposed journey, and, if not, would lend him money for his present purposes, or under existing circumstances he might probably be able to borrow it from Mr. Grey.  With a heart elevated to almost absolute bliss he ate his breakfast, and drank his chasse, and smoked his cigar, and then rose slowly, that he might proceed to Mr. Grey’s chambers.  But at this moment Augustus came in.  He had only breakfasted at his own club, much less comfortably than he would have done at home, in order that he might not sit at table with his brother.  He had now returned so that he might see to Mountjoy’s departure.  “After all, Augustus, I am going down to Tretton,” said the elder brother as he folded up his father’s letter.

“What argument has the old man used now?” Mountjoy did not think it well to tell his brother the exact nature of the arguments used, and therefore put the letter into his pocket.

“He wishes to say something to me about property,” said Mountjoy.