All this was extremely distressing to a gentleman of Mr. Prosper’s delicate feelings.  As to the proposals in regard to money, the letters from Soames & Simpson to Grey & Barry, all of which came down to Buston Hall, seemed to be innumerable.

With Soames & Simpson Mr. Prosper declined to have any personal communication.  But every letter from the Buntingford attorneys was accompanied by a farther letter from the London attorneys, till the correspondence became insupportable.  Mr. Prosper was not strong enough to stick firmly to his guns as planted for him by Messrs. Grey & Barry.  He did give way in some matters, and hence arose renewed letters which nearly drove him mad.  Messrs. Soames & Simpson’s client was willing to accept four hundred pounds as the amount of the dower without reference to the house, and to this Mr. Prosper yielded.  He did not much care about any heir as yet unborn, and felt by no means so certain in regard to children as did the lady.  But he fought hard about the ponies.  He could not undertake that his wife should have ponies.  That must be left to him as master of the house.  He thought that a pair of carriage-horses for her use would be sufficient.  He had always kept a carriage, and intended to do so.  She might bring her ponies if she pleased, but if he thought well to part with them he would sell them.  He found himself getting deeper and deeper into the quagmire, till he began to doubt whether he should be able to extricate himself unmarried if he were anxious to do so.  And all the while there came affectionate little notes from Miss Thoroughbung asking after his health, and recommending him what to take, till he entertained serious thoughts of going to Cairo for the winter.

Then Mr. Barry came down to see him after Mountjoy had made his visit.  It was now January, and the bargaining about the marriage had gone on for more than two months.  The letter which he had received from the Squire of Tretton had moved him; but he had told himself that the property was his own, and that he had a right to enjoy it as he liked best.

Whatever might have been Harry’s faults in regard to that midnight affair, it had certainly been true that he had declined to hear the sermons.  Mr. Prosper did not exactly mention the sermons to himself, but there was present to him a feeling that his heir had been wilfully disobedient, and the sermons no doubt had been the cause.  When he had read the old squire’s letter he did not as yet wish to forgive his nephew.  He was becoming very tired of his courtship, but in his estimation the wife would be better than the nephew.  Though he had been much put out by the precocity of that embrace, there was nevertheless a sweetness about it which lingered on his lips.  Then Mountjoy had come down, and he had answered Mountjoy very stoutly:  “A lie!” he had exclaimed.  “Did he tell a lie?” he had asked, as though all must be over with a young man who had once allowed himself to depart from the rigid truth.  Mountjoy had made what excuse he could, but Mr. Prosper had been very stern.