“What are you reading there, Len?”
Leonard took it out of his hand.
“My poor, light-hearted, unreasoning Jack,” he said. “It’s Levy Moss’ reminder about that bill!”
Jack’s face fell and he dropped into a chair.
“Quite right, Len,” he said, hoarsely. “I am an unreasoning fool! What have I done? I’ve behaved like a blackguard! I’ve got this angel to admit that she loved me—me, a beggar—more than a beggar! But I swear I forgot—I forgot everything when I was near her. Oh, Heaven, Len, it’s hard lines! What shall I do! If the poor old squire had but left me a few hundreds a year, how happy we could be!”
“But he hasn’t,” said Leonard, gravely and gently. “And what are you going to do? There’s the money you lost last night——”
Jack groaned.
“What an idiot I was. Len, I swear to you that I was nearly driven out of my mind last night. First there was Lady Bell—she was more than civil, and bearing in mind all you said and wanted me to do, I made myself agreeable, and—and—she’s very beautiful, Len, and when she looks right into your eyes and smiles, she seems to do what she likes with you. Len, I was nearly gone when that vision—as I thought it—came into the glass amongst the ferns. I thought it was a vision—I know now that she was there—and it drove me silly. I bolted out and made for the club, and played to forget it all.”
“And made bad matters worse,” said Leonard. “You’re in a hole, Jack, I’m afraid. Moss won’t wait; there are other bills, and there’s the I. O. U. of last night, and you’ve lost the money you had, and you’ve asked this young girl to love you. You mean to marry her—I say, you mean to marry her. On what? How can you go to her father—who already doesn’t seem altogether prepossessed in your favor—and ask him to give his daughter to a penniless gentleman? Mind—a gentleman! If you were a woodman like himself, your being hard up wouldn’t matter. You could take an ax, or whatever they use, and earn your living. But you can’t go and ask him to let her share your over-due bills and I. O. U.’s.”
Jack groaned.