"And the Englishman—was he implicated?" asked Mrs. Bransby, rather from a desire to divert the conversation from a direction fraught with danger to the general harmony than from any special curiosity on the subject.
"No; not exactly implicated," replied Miss Piper. "That is to say, he was not suspected of any unfair play, or anything of that sort; but it was considered disgraceful for him to have been mixed up in these gambling transactions; especially as he was a much older man than the others. And then——"
"And then," continued Miss Patty, "it was not considered exactly creditable, I believe—although perhaps Polly thinks it was; I'm sure I don't know,—it wasn't, most people would say, exactly creditable for a man of family, an English gentleman, to be strolling about the world with a parcel of foreign singers. And he had been doing just that. We heard of his being at Antwerp, and Ghent, and Ostend with them."
"A man of family, do you say? A really well-born man?" said Mrs. Hadlow, sitting suddenly very upright in the energy of her feelings. "How shocking! That really seems to be the worst of all!"
"Well, I suppose we must pity his errors," observed Miss Patty, with some causticity. But Mrs. Hadlow was insensible to the sarcasm; or, at all events, her sense of it was swallowed up by a stronger feeling. "I do think it's a public misfortune," she went on, "when a person on whom Providence has bestowed gentle birth derogates from his rank and forgets his duties. It grieves me."
"You must suffer a good deal in these days, I'm afraid," said Miss Patty, grimly.
"Not on that account," replied Mrs. Hadlow. "No; truly not. There may be exceptions—I won't deny that there are some. But, on the whole, I thoroughly believe that bon sang ne peut mentir."
"Well, perhaps Mr. Cheffington's blood is not so good as he says it is; that's all," said Miss Patty, with a short laugh.
Mrs. Hadlow and Mrs. Bransby uttered a simultaneous exclamation of amazement; and then the former said in a breathless whisper, "Hush, hush, my dear, for mercy's sake! Did you say Cheffington? That is—Cheffington is the name of that girl! Don't turn your head."
"Oh, it can't be the same!" said Mrs. Bransby, nervously.