“Yes, he came to the race-ground.”
“Indeed! He was not with you when you came back, or were we not sufficiently rational to see him?”
“Duncombe gave a dinner at the hotel, and carried him off to it. I’m mortally afraid there’s something amiss in that quarter. What, didn’t you know that Duncombe’s filly failed?”
“No, indeed, I did not.”
“The town was ringing with it. Beaten out-and-out by Fair Phyllida! a beast that took them all by surprise—nothing to look at—but causing, I fancy, a good deal of distress. They say the Duncombes will be done for. I only wish Frank was clear; but that unhappy engagement has thrown him in with Sir Harry’s set, and he was with them all day—hardly spoke to me. To a fellow like him, a veteran scamp like old Vivian, with his benignant looks, is ten times more dangerous than men of his own age. However, having done the damage, they seem to have thrown him off. Miss Vivian would not speak to him at the ball.”
“Eleonora! I don’t know how to think it!”
“What you cannot think, a Vivian can do and does!” said Raymond, bitterly. “My belief is that he was decoyed into being fleeced by the father, and now they have done their worst, he is cast off. He came home with us, but sat outside, and I could not get a word out of him.”
“I hope my mother may.”
“If he be not too far gone for her. I always did expect some such termination, but not with this addition.”
“I don’t understand it now—Lena!”