‘Your father believed you had told him of all your debts,’ she said, in a tone of increased scorn and disappointment.
‘I did—I mean—Oh! Mrs. Kendal, believe me, I intended to have told him the utmost farthing—I thought I had done so—but this was a thing—Dusautoy had persuaded me into half consenting to have some wine with him from a cheating Portuguese—then ordered more than ever I knew of, and the man went and became bankrupt, and sent in a great abominable bill that I no more owned, nor had reason to expect than my horse.’
‘So you preferred intriguing with this man to applying openly to your father?’
‘It was no doing of mine. It was forced upon me, and, in fact, the account was mixed up with his. It was the most evil hour of my life when I consented. I’ve not had a moment’s peace or happiness since, and it was the promise of the bill receipted that led me to this place.’
‘And why was this place chosen for the meeting? You and Mr. Cavendish Dusautoy live only too near one another.’
‘He is not at the Vicarage,’ faltered Gilbert.
Albinia suddenly grew pale with apprehension. ‘Gilbert,’ she said, ‘there is only one thing that could make this business worse;’ and as she saw his change of countenance, she continued, ‘Then it is so, and Lucy is his object.’
‘He did not speak, but his face was that of a convicted traitor, and fresh perceptions crowded on her, as she exclaimed, horror struck, ‘The ink! Yes, when you said she was with the Dusautoys! I understand! He has been in hiding, he has been here! And this expedition was to arrange a clandestine meeting between them under your father’s own roof! You conniving! you who said you would sooner see your sister sold to Legree!’
‘It is all true,’ said Gilbert, moodily, his elbows on the table and his face in his hands, ‘and if the utmost misery for weeks past could be any atonement, it would be mine. But at least I have done nothing willingly to bring them together. I have only gone on in the hope and trust that I was some protection to poor Lucy.’
‘Fine protection,’ sighed Albinia. ‘And how has it been? how does it stand?’