When all this was over she was very angry with herself for the anxiety she had expressed about Tregear. This Mr Longstaff was, she thought, exactly the man to report all she had said in the public-room at the club. But she had been annoyed by what she had heard as to her friend. She knew that he of all men should keep himself free from such follies. Those others had, as it were, a right to make fools of themselves. It had seemed so natural that the young men of her own class should dissipate their fortunes and their reputations by every kind of extravagance! Her father had done so, and she had never even ventured to hope that her brother would not follow her father's example. But Tregear, if he gave way to such follies as these, would soon fall headlong into a pit from which there would be no escape. And if he did fall, she knew herself well enough to be aware that she could not stifle, nor even conceal the misery which this would occasion her. As long as he stood well before the world she would be well able to assume indifference. But were he to be precipitated into some bottomless misfortunes then she could only throw herself after him. She could see him marry, and smile,--and perhaps even like his wife. And while he was doing so, she could also marry, and resolve that the husband whom she took should be made to think he had a loving wife. But were Frank to die,--then must she fall upon his body as though he had been known by all the world to be her lover.
Something of this feeling came upon her now, when she heard that he had been betting and had been unfortunate. She had been unable so to subdue herself as to seem to be perfectly careless about it.
She had begun by saying that she had not believed it;--but she had believed it. It was so natural that Tregear should have done as the others did with whom he lived! But then the misfortune would be to him so terrible,--so irremediable! The reader, however, may as well know at once there was a not a word of truth in the assertion.
After dinner she went home alone. There were other festivities to be attended, had she pleased to attend them; and poor Miss Cassewary was dressed ready to go with her as chaperone;--but Miss Cassewary was quite satisfied to be allowed to go to bed in lieu of Mrs Montacute Jones's great ball. And she had gone to her bedroom when Lady Mabel went to her. 'I am glad you are alone,' she said, 'because I want to speak to you.'
'Is anything wrong?'
'Everything is wrong. Papa says he must give up this house.'
'He says that almost always when he comes back from the races, and very often when he comes back from the club.'
'Percival has lost ever so much.'
'I don't think my Lord will hamper himself for your brother.'
'I can't explain it, but there is some horrible money complication. It is hard upon you and me.'
'Who am I?' said Miss Cassewary.
'About the dearest friend that ever a poor girl had. It is hard upon you,--and upon me. I have given up everything,--and what good have I done?'
'It is hard, my dear.'
'But after all I do not care much for all that. The thing has been going on for so long that one is used to it.'
'What is it then?'
'Ah;--yes;--what is it? How am I to tell you?'
'Surely you can tell me,' said the old woman, putting out her hand so as to caress the arm of the younger one.
'I could tell no one else; I am sure of that. Frank Tregear has taken to gambling,--like the rest of them.'
'Who says so?'
'He has lost a lot of money at these races. A man who sat next to me at dinner,--one of those stupid do-nothing fools that one meets everywhere,--told me so. He is one of the Beargarden set, and of course he knows all about it.'
'Did he say how much?'
'How is he to pay anything? Of all things men do this is the worst. A man who would think himself disgraced for ever if he accepted a present of money will not scruple to use all his wits to rob his friend of everything that he has by studying the run of the cards or by watching the paces of some brutes of horses! And they consider themselves to be fine gentlemen! A real gentleman should never want the money out of another man's pocket;--should never think of money at all.'
