"In other words they will put me in prison."
The earl shrugged his shoulders.
"I cannot say; I know nothing about it. May I remind you again of the conversation which I before mentioned as taking place between us in this room? I ventured to advise you; my advice was not taken; you cannot be surprised at my reluctance to repeat that advice."
"Is it my fault that Violet Mildmay very properly refuses to enrich a ruined house by marrying the poverty-stricken eldest son and heir, who, love her as he does, is utterly unworthy of her?"
"Your fault!" retorted the earl, with icy scorn. "I know nothing of your affairs, but unless I am grossly misinformed it is your fault that Ethel has married a boy and refused a millionaire; that is enough for me. Go on in the course you have before you, Lord Boisdale. Go in the path you are treading, and find yourself a penniless debtor, rotting in jail; it is perfectly indifferent to me. I have pointed out to you the secret of success—you have scorned it or failed to get it by rank foolery. I have done with you! Lackland Hall and money will last my lifetime; afterward it can go to the dogs, which I can see already at your heels. I am busy, and therefore compelled to wish you good-morning."
So saying, the earl pointed to the pile of bills, and then to the door.
Lord Fitz took up the bills and quietly left the room, dazed still, and more like a man walking in his sleep.