thing, but sufficient for his requirements. He gave his word to quit
the turf finally. He had no desire to amuse himself in that sort of
way again--or, indeed, in other ways. He wished to settle down, etc.
It occurred to old Bolton, who was a shrewd man, that Sir Maurice
looked like one whose interest in life and its joys was at an end.
Still, he was a baronet, and of very ancient lineage, and it was a
triumph for the Boltons. He refused to acknowledge to _himself_ that
he was sacrificing his niece. It was not a sacrifice; it was an
honour!

For one thing the old man stipulated, or rather bargained. He had
managed his niece's affairs so far with great success; some of her
money was in land, in Oakdean and Rickfort, for example; the rest he
had invested securely, as he hoped and believed. If he might still
be acknowledged as her guardian?

Sir Maurice, of course, gave in. Thoroughly ashamed and humiliated
by the whole affair--he, the man, without a penny; she, the woman,
possessed of all things in that line--it gave him genuine relief to
tell her uncle that he would be actually thankful if he would still
continue to be the head of her affairs, and manage her money
matters, as he had managed them hitherto--and always with such happy
results.

Mr. Bolton had bowed to him over his spectacles; his curious gray
eyes caught a little addition of light, as it were. He was honoured
by Sir Maurice's confidence, but, if he might suggest it, he thought
that whilst Sir Maurice's affairs were righting themselves, he ought
to allow himself a certain income out of his wife's money.