"Well, the story is rather a long one, and I do not know that all of it is fit for your ears, or that I ought to inflict it upon you. Still I think you should know something about it. I feel an interest in poor Melville much the same interest which a man takes in anything that has cost him some trouble."
"What made you take any trouble about him?" Joyce asked.
"I scarcely know; pity, I think, began it; and who could help pitying him? He got into the hands of an unprincipled man, much older than himself, who is, in fact, a relative of mine, and I did what I could to get him out of his clutches. He got all his money out of him, and then persuaded him to gamble to get more; of course ending in losing it."
"How dreadful!" Joyce exclaimed. "Does father know?"
"He knows about the money part, of course; about the debts and difficulties."
"Yes," Joyce exclaimed, with a sigh, "and it has troubled him greatly."
"What I wanted to say to you was, that I think if Melville went abroad, as he wishes, it might be a good thing, provided a safe companion could be found for him."
"Will you go?" Joyce said, eagerly.
"No, it is impossible; I could not leave my mother: I am all she has in the world. We are going to live in Bristol, where I am to be articled to a good firm of lawyers, and perhaps I may study afterwards for the bar."
"I thought you were of high family," Joyce said innocently.