Mr. Clarkson had been rather dry with my brothers at Baden,
evidently considering that poor Griffith had been as fatal to his
sister as we thought Selina had been to our brother. It was hardly
just, for there had been much more to spoil in him than in her; and
though she would hardly have trod a much higher path, there is no
saying what he might have been but for her.

Griffith had said nothing about providing for her, not having
forgiven her till he was past recollecting the need, but her brother
had intimated that something was due from the family, and Clarence
had assented--not, indeed, as to her deserts, poor woman, but her
claims and her needs--well knowing that my father would never suffer
Griff's widow to be in want.

He judged rightly. My father was nervously anxious to arrange for
giving her 500 pounds a year, in the manner most likely to prevent
her from making away with it, and leaving herself destitute. But
there had already been heavy pulls on his funded property, and ways
and means had to be considered, making Clarence realise that he had
become the heir. Somehow, there still remained, especially with my
mother and himself, a sense of his being a failure, and an inferior
substitute, although my father had long come to lean upon him, as
never had been the case with our poor Griff.

The first idea of raising the amount required was by selling an
outlying bit of the estate near the Wattlesea Station, for which an
enterprising builder was making offers, either to purchase or take
on a building lease. My father had received several letters on the
subject, and only hesitated from a feeling against breaking up the
estate, especially if this were part of the original Chantry House