“But you say he is the wickedest man the world ever produced.”

“Because he boasts of it all, and cannot be got in any way to repent.  He gives me my instructions as though from first to last he had been a highly honorable man, and only laughs at me when I object.  And yet he must know that he may die any day.  He only wishes to have this matter set straight so that he may die.  I could forgive him altogether if he would but once say that he was sorry for what he’d done.  But he has completely the air of the fine old head of a family who thinks he is to be put into marble the moment the breath is out of his body, and that he richly deserves the marble he is to be put into.”

“That is a question between him and his God,” said Dolly.

“He hasn’t got a God.  He believes only in his own reason,—­and is content to do so, lying there on the very brink of eternity.  He is quite content with himself, because he thinks that he has not been selfish.  He cares nothing that he has robbed every one all round.  He has no reverence for property and the laws which govern it.  He was born only with the life-interest, and he has determined to treat it as though the fee-simple had belonged to him.  It is his utter disregard for law, for what the law has decided, which makes me declare him to have been the wickedest man the world ever produced.”

“It is his disregard for truth which makes you think so.”

“He cares nothing for truth.  He scorns it and laughs at it.  And yet about the little things of the world he expects his word to be taken as certainly as that of any other gentleman.”

“I would not take it.”

“Yes, you would, and would be right too.  If he would say he’d pay me a hundred pounds to-morrow, or a thousand, I would have his word as soon as any other man’s bound.  And yet he has utterly got the better of me, and made me believe that a marriage took place, when there was no marriage.  I think I’ll have a cup of tea.”

“You won’t go to sleep, papa?”

“Oh yes, I shall.  When I’ve been so troubled as that I must have a cup of tea.”  Mr. Grey was often troubled, and as a consequence Dolly was called up for consultations in the middle of the night.

At about one o’clock there came the well-known knock at Dolly’s door and the usual invitation.  Would she come into her father’s room for a few minutes?  Then her father trotted back to his bed, and Dolly, of course, followed him as soon as she had clothed herself decently.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I had made up my mind not to go; or I thought rather that I should be able to make up my mind not to go.  But it is possible that down there I may have some effect for good.”

“What does he want of you?”

“There is a long question about raising money with which Augustus desires to buy the silence of the creditors.”

“Could he get the money?” asked Dolly.