“Then it is reduced to the grave Raymond.”
“I wish I had betrayed nothing.”
“Now you may as well proceed to betray the rest, instead of leaving me to exercise my fancy.”
“It is no secret, only such things are best not brought up again. Camilla Vivian was poor Raymond’s grande passion, and you may imagine what a grief that was to my mother, especially as the poor brother was then living—one of the most fascinating, dangerous men I ever saw; and the whole tone of the place was ultra gay and thoughtless, the most reckless extravagance. However, he was set upon it, and my mother was forced to consent to the engagement. She seemed equally devoted to him, till she met Lord Tyrrell at some country house, and then a quarrel was picked, either by her mother or herself, about my mother retaining the headship of her own house. It was a palpable excuse, but it served to break the affair off, and Raymond was cruelly cut up. My mother made herself everything to him from that moment, gave up all her former habits to be with him, sent the little boys to school, and fairly dragged him through the trouble!”
“How long ago was it?”
“Ten years—yes, ten years. So far as ceasing to care a straw for a heartless woman like that, he has got over it, no doubt; but it has made a graver man of him for life, and I doubt whether, but for my mother’s accident, he ever would have married.”
“Did you marry for your mother’s sake, Julius, or only tell her so?”
“For shame, my Lady Mischief!”
“And do you think the fair Camilla returned with plans that she finds disconcerted?”
“How can I tell? I have not seen her since I was a lad of eighteen.—Ah! how d’ye do, Betty?” in a tone of relief; “you’ve not seen my wife.”