"As to hunting."
"Nimrod I fancy got his game in any way that he could compass it. I do not doubt but that he trapped foxes."
"With a rifle at deer, say for four hundred yards, I would back Gerald against any man of his age in England or Scotland."
"As for backing, Silverbridge, do not you think that we had better have done with that?" This was said hardly in a tone of reproach, with something even of banter in it; and as the question was asked the Duke was smiling. But in a moment all that sense of joyousness which the young man had felt in singing his brother's praises was expelled. His face fell, and he stood before his father almost like a culprit. "We might as well have it out about this racing," continued the Duke. "Something has to be said about it. You have lost an enormous sum of money." The Duke's tone in saying this became terribly severe. Such at least was its sound in his son's ears. He did not mean to be severe.
But when he did speak of that which displeased him his voice naturally assumed that tone of indignation with which in days of yore he had been wont to denounce the public extravagance of his opponents in the House of Commons. The father paused, but the son could not speak at the moment.
"And worse than that," continued the Duke; "you have lost it in as bad company as you could have found had you picked all England through."
"Mr. Lupton, and Sir Henry Playfair, and Lord Stirling were in the room when the bets were made."
"Were the gentlemen you name concerned with Major Tifto?"
"No, sir."
"Who can tell with whom he may be in a room? Though rooms of that kind are, I think, best avoided." Then the Duke paused again, but Silverbridge was now sobbing so that he could hardly speak. "I am sorry that you should be so grieved," continued the father, "but such delights cannot, I think, lead to much real joy."