But to all this Mr. Stanfield only murmured, gazing up into his daughter's face, "My poor child! my poor darling child!"
"What is it, papa? Oh, I know--it's about Charley! He's not--" and then she blanched dead-white, and said in a scarcely audible voice, "He's not dead, papa?"
"No, Georgie, no. It might be better if he were,--be better if he were."
"He's very ill, then?"
"No, darling,--at least--there; perhaps you'd better read it for yourself; here, read it for yourself;" and the old man, after giving her the letter, covered his face with his hands and sobbed aloud.
Then Georgie read in Sir Percy Mitford's roundest hand and stiffest style, how his nephew Charles, utterly ungrateful for the kindness which he, Sir Percy, had showered upon him, and regardless of the fact that he had no resources of his own nor expectations of any, had plunged into "every kind of vice and debauchery, notably gambling"--(Sir Percy was chairman of Quarter-Sessions, and you might trace the effect of act-of-parliament reading in his style)-how he had lost large sums at cards; and how, with the double object of paying his debts and retrieving his losses, lie had at length forged Sir Percy's signature to a bill for £200; and when the document became due had absconded, no one knew where. Sir Percy need scarcely say that all communication between him and this unworthy member of--he grieved to say--his family was at an end for ever; and he took that opportunity, while informing Mr. Stanfield of the circumstance, of congratulating him on having been lucky enough to escape any matrimonial connection with such a rogue and a vagabond.
Mr. Stanfield watched her perusal of the letter; and when she had finished it, and returned it to him calmly, he said:
"Well, my dear! it's a severe blow, is it not?"
"Yes, papa, it is indeed a severe blow. Poor Charley!"
"Poor Charley, my dear! You surely don't feel the least compassion for Charles Mitford; a man who has--who has outraged the laws of his country!"