By no means in quiescence did the squire hear these charges brought against him.  The Lady Arabella, in each attack, got quite as much as she gave, and, at last, was driven to retreat in a state of headache, which she declared to be chronic; and which, so she assured her daughter Augusta, must prevent her from having any more lengthened conversations with her lord—­at any rate for the next three months.  But though the squire may be said to have come off on the whole as the victor in these combats, they did not perhaps have, on that account, the less effect upon him.  He knew it was true that he had done much towards ruining his son; and he also could think of no other remedy than matrimony.  It was Frank’s doom, pronounced even by the voice of his father, that he must marry money.

And so, Frank went off again to Cambridge, feeling himself, as he went, to be a much lesser man in Greshamsbury estimation than he had been some two months earlier, when his birthday had been celebrated.  Once during his short stay at Greshamsbury he had seen the doctor; but the meeting had been anything but pleasant.  He had been afraid to ask after Mary; and the doctor had been too diffident of himself to speak of her.  They had met casually on the road, and, though each in his heart loved the other, the meeting had been anything but pleasant.

And so Frank went to Cambridge; and, as he did so, he stoutly resolved that nothing should make him untrue to Mary Thorne.  ‘Beatrice,’ said he, on the morning he went away, when she came into his room to superintend his packing—­’Beatrice, if she ever talks about me—­’

’Oh, Frank, my darling Frank, don’t think of it—­it is madness; she knows it is madness.’

’Never mind; if she ever talks about me, tell her that the last word I said was, that I would never forget her.  She can do as she likes.’

Beatrice made no promise, never hinted that she would give the message; but it may be taken for granted that she had not been long in company with Mary Thorne before she did give it.

And then there were other troubles at Greshamsbury.  It had been decided that Augusta’s marriage was to take place in September; but Mr Moffat had, unfortunately, been obliged to postpone the happy day.  He himself had told Augusta—­not, of course, without protestations as to his regret—­and had written to this effect to Mr Gresham, ‘Electioneering matters, and other troubles had,’ he said, ’made this peculiarly painful postponement absolutely necessary.’

Augusta seemed to bear her misfortune with more equanimity than is, we believe, usual with young ladies under such circumstances.  She spoke of it to her mother in a very matter-of-fact way, and seemed almost contented at the idea of remaining at Greshamsbury till February; which was the time now named for the marriage.  But Lady Arabella was not equally well satisfied, nor was the squire.

‘I half believe that fellow is not honest,’ he had once said out loud before Frank, and this set Frank a-thinking of what dishonesty in the matter it was probable that Mr Moffat might be guilty, and what would be the fitting punishment for such a crime.  Nor did he think on the subject in vain; especially after a conference on the matter which he had with his friend Harry Baker.  This conference took place during the Christmas vacation.