The embarrassed state of the property was unknown to his young relatives, who deemed his treasures, like those of the celebrated Abulcasem, inexhaustible.  Godfrey, it is true, had latterly received some hints from Johnstone how matters stood, but his mind was so wholly occupied with his pursuit of Juliet Whitmore, and the unpleasant predicament in which he was placed by his unfortunate connexion with Mary Mathews, that he had banished the disagreeable subject from his thoughts.

The storm which had been long gathering at length burst.  Algernon was arrested, his property seized by the sheriff, himself removed to the jail of the county town of ——.  Thither Anthony followed him, anxious to alleviate by his presence the deep dejection into which his Uncle had fallen, and to offer that heartfelt sympathy so precious to the wounded pride of the sufferer.

The gay and joyous disposition of Algernon Hurdlestone yielded to the pressure of misfortune.  His mind bowed to the heavy stroke, and he gave himself up to misery.  His numerous creditors assailed him on all sides with their harassing importunities; and in his dire distress he applied to his rich brother, and, humbly for him, entreated a temporary loan of two thousand pounds until his affairs could be adjusted, and the property sold.  This application, as might have been expected, was insultingly rejected on the part of the miser.

Rendered desperate by his situation, Algernon made a second attempt, and pleaded the expense he had been at in bringing up and educating his son, and demanded a moderate remuneration for the same.  To this ill-judged application, Mark Hurdlestone returned for answer, “That he had not forced his son upon his protection; that Algernon had pleased himself in adopting the boy; that he had warned him of the consequences when he took that extraordinary step; and that he must now abide by the result; that he, Algernon, had wasted his substance, like the prodigal of old, in riotous living, but that he, Mark, knew better the value of money, and how to take care of it.”

“Your father, Tony, is a mean pitiful scoundrel!” cried the heart-broken Algernon, crushing the unfeeling letter in his hand, and flinging it with violence from him.  “But I deserved to be treated with contempt, when I could so far forget myself as to make an application to him!  Thirty years ago, I should have deemed begging my bread from door to door an act of less degradation.  But, Tony, time changes us all.  Misfortune makes the proudest neck bow beneath the yoke.  My spirit is subdued, Tony, my heart crushed, my pride gone.  I am not what I was, my dear boy.  It is too late to recall the past.  But I can see too late the errors of my conduct.  I have acted cruelly and selfishly to poor Godfrey, and squandered in folly the property his mother brought me, and which should have made him rich.  And you, my dear Anthony, this blow will deprive you of a father, aye, and of one that loved you too.  I would rather share a kennel with my dogs, than become an inmate of the home which now awaits you.”