Hence the
accident. The statement was false, and the evidence supporting it
corrupt. Moreover the whole business was only the last of a series of
unneighbourly acts on the part both of the bailiff and landowner, and a
sudden fury blazed up in Brand's slow mind. He took his claim to the
county court and won his case; the judge allowing himself a sharp
sentence or two on the management of the Threlfall property. Brand spent
part of his compensation money in entertaining a group of friends at a
Pengarth public. But that was the last of his triumph. Thenceforward
things went mysteriously wrong with him. His creditors, first one, then
all, began to tighten their pressure on him; and presently the bank
manager--the Jove of Brand's little world--passed abruptly from civility
or indulgence, to a peremptory reminder that debts were meant to be paid.
A fresh bill of sale on furniture and stock staved off disaster for a
time. But a bad season brought it once more a long step nearer, and the
bank, however urgently appealed to, showed itself adamant, not only as to
any further advance, but as to any postponement of their own claim.
Various desperate expedients only made matters worse, and after a few
more wretched months during which his farm deteriorated, and his business
went still further to wreck, owing largely to his own distress of mind,
Brand threw up the sponge. He sold his small remaining interest in his
farm, which did not even suffice to pay his debts, and went out of it a
bankrupt and broken man, prematurely aged.
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