The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope Page B

me. He would as soon do what is wrong before me as before the merest stranger.’
    â€˜He has been so long his own master, mamma.’
    â€˜Yes – his own master! And yet I must provide for him as though he were but a child. Hetta, you spent the whole evening talking to Paul Montague.’
    â€˜No, mamma; that is unjust.’
    â€˜He was always with you.’
    â€˜I knew nobody else. I could not tell him not to speak to me. I danced with him twice.’ Her mother was seated, with both her hands up to her forehead, and shook her head. ‘If you did not want me to speak to Paul you should not have taken me there.’
    â€˜I don’t wish to prevent your speaking to him. You know what I want.’ Henrietta came up and kissed her, and bade her good night ‘I think I am the unhappiest woman in all London,’ she said, sobbing hysterically.
    â€˜Is it my fault, mamma?’
    â€˜You could save me from much if you would. I work like a horse, and I never spend a shilling that I can help. I want nothing for myself – nothing for myself. Nobody has suffered as I have. But Felix never thinks of me for a moment.’
    â€˜I think of you, mamma.’
    â€˜If you did you would accept your cousin’s offer. What right have you to refuse him? I believe it is all because of that young man.’
    â€˜No, mamma; it is not because of that young man. I like my cousin very much – but that is all. Good night, mamma.’ Lady Carbury just allowed herself to be kissed, and then was left alone.
    At eight o’clock the next morning daybreak found four young men who had just risen from a card-table at the Beargarden. The Beargarden was so pleasant a club that there was no rule whatsoever as to its being closed – the only law being that it should not be opened before three in the afternoon. A sort of sanction had, however, been given to the servants to demur to producing supper or drinks after six in the morning, so that,about eight, unrelieved tobacco began to be too heavy even for juvenile constitutions. The party consisted of Dolly Longestaffe, Lord Grasslough, Miles Grendall, and Felix Carbury, and the four had amused themselves during the last six hours with various innocent games. They had commenced with whist, and had culminated during the last half-hour with blind hookey. 1 But during the whole night Felix had won. Miles Grendall hated him, and there had been an expressed opinion between Miles and the young lord that it would be both profitable and proper to relieve Sir Felix of the winnings of the last two nights. The two men had played with the same object, and being young had shown their intention – so that a certain feeling of hostility had been engendered. The reader is not to understand that either of them had cheated, or that the baronet had entertained any suspicion of foul play. But Felix had felt that Grendall and Grasslough were his enemies, and had thrown himself on Dolly for sympathy and friendship. Dolly, however, was very tipsy.
    At eight o’clock in the morning there came a sort of settling, though no money then passed. The ready-money transactions had not lasted long through the night. Grasslough was the chief loser, and the figures and scraps of paper which had been passed over to Carbury, when counted up, amounted to nearly £2,000. His lordship contested the fact bitterly, but contested in vain. There were his own initials and his own figures, and even Miles Grendall, who was supposed to be quite wide awake, could not reduce the amount. Then Grendall had lost over £400 to Carbury – an amount, indeed, that mattered little, as Miles could at present as easily have raised £40,000. However, he gave his IOU to his opponent with an easy air. Grasslough, also, was impecunious; but he had a father – also impecunious, indeed; but with them the matter would not be hopeless. Dolly Longestaffe was so tipsy that he could not even assist in