He would have died a coward's death and left his father and sister to suffer shame and dishonour.
It was some little time before he could find his voice and tell his father that he need not worry about the money.
"I don't want you to question me, guv'nor, but I've had a bit of luck and made enough to keep myself for another year or two in London. I can let you have plenty to go on with, too."
"Not borrowed money, not made by gambling?" John Dale asked. "But I needn't ask you, Rupert. It was money honestly earned, I know."
Rupert dared not confess how he had obtained it. "It came through a friend," he said unsteadily. "I can't tell you more now, father, but I will one day. I only want you to know that you needn't worry. I shan't fail you. I promise."
Dale took his son's hand in his great, horny fist and pressed it tightly. "I know that, I know that, my boy."
The first thing Rupert did with the money Ruby had given him was to repay Despard the twenty-five pounds he owed him. The second was to hand Marjorie fifteen pounds—ten for housekeeping expenses, and five for herself. She was overwhelmed, and at first refused to take it. To her it seemed like a fortune.
"You needn't tell the guv'nor," Rupert said, "though he knows I've made a bit. But if he's in want of anything just buy it for him—say it's a present from me. Get yourself a nice frock and some pretty shoes."
Rupert felt afraid that the rough fare and humble life at Blackthorn Farm would bore or disgust his friend, but he soon found that he was wrong. Despard settled down to the new mode of life as if he had been thoroughly used to it. He was up soon after daybreak helping Marjorie to milk the cows; watching her scald the cream and make the butter, and he insisted on being taught how to do these things himself. He made himself useful about the farm, too, and quite won John Dale's heart. He proved himself nearly as good a shot at the rabbits as Rupert, though he quite failed to catch the cunning Devonshire trout, and frankly admitted that it bored him to throw a fly.
"I want to look at this old tin-mine of yours," he announced one day; and he asked Dale for particulars about it, as to how long it had been worked, why it had failed, and the state it was now in.