“Remember the words you have spoken! I shall need no second bidding; I will not enter this house, nor will I see your face again, until you send for me! And since you thus drive your best friend from you, and encourage your bitterest enemy, may God protect you! and when you see and repent of your error, may He bless you also!”
As he uttered the last words, he seized his hat, hurried from the room, and ere Kate could sufficiently recover herself to attempt to stop him, she heard the house-door close behind him: and then the proud woman’s haughty spirit failed her, and murmuring—“I shall never see him again—never, never!” she buried her face in her hands, and wept bitterly.
CHAPTER XLII.—L’EMBARRAS DES RICHESSES.
The reader, if that noble myth who rules the destiny of us poor writers be possessed of an average amount of memory, will recollect that on the evening when Lord Alfred Courtland entertained Jack Beaupeep and friends at his comfortable bachelor lodgings, a gentleman then first mentioned, bearing the euphonious patronymic of Le Roux, conveyed to Monsieur Guillemard the startling intelligence that the Russian Count Ratrapski had broken the bank in J———— Street. How, although immediately after receiving this news, Horace D’Almayne had proceeded to Lady Trottemout’s soirée, and, according to his wont, made himself universally agreeable, and transacted a more than usual amount of mischief, by bringing about the most serious disagreement which had yet occurred between Harry Coverdale and Alice his wife, it must not be supposed that the intelligence did not interest him. On the contrary, it appealed to him in his weakest point—the pocket; for in that gambling establishment (of which D’Almayne was part proprietor) had he invested his little all, and the losses incurred by the good fortune of Count Ratrapski swallowed up every farthing he had in the world, leaving him nothing but his debts and his talents to live upon. This position, however, by no means possessed the charm of novelty for our excellent young friend; on the contrary, as it was a favourite theory of his—which he never lost any opportunity of reducing to practice—that it was the duty of those who had money to support those who had not, he rather preferred being insolvent; and, paradoxical as it may appear, considered himself best off when he was worst off—for then he was obliged to exert all his energies to ensure that some purse better filled than his own should relax its strings to provide for his necessities.
Thus, on the very day on which Arthur Hazlehurst had his unsatisfactory interview with Kate Crane, the husband of that proud beauty met by appointment, at an office not far from the Royal Exchange, Monsieur Guillemard,—Mr. Vondenthaler, a Belgian capitalist,—Mr. Bonus Nugget, a man well known upon ’Change,—the Hon. Captain O’Brien,—and last, though not least, Horace D’Almayne. Mr. Crane having seated himself, after undergoing the ceremony of introduction to Mr. Vondenthaler, who was the only member of the party unknown to him, D’Almayne opened the proceedings by observing—
“Well, gentlemen, I am glad to tell you that everything is progressing as we could wish, and that my previous calculations, which I had the honour of laying before you at our last meeting, appear likely not only to be verified, but exceeded. Mr. Vondenthaler informs me that the applications for shares from the principal foreign merchants are incessant; and Mr. Nugget and Captain O’Brien will tell you the same in regard to their own connection. Is it not so, Captain?”
“Indeed, and it is, thin,” replied the gentleman thus accosted, who possibly, from his having mixed so much with the aristocracy of Europe generally, spoke with a strong Irish accent. “Bedad, sir, the way they come tumbling in is perfectly astonishing; ’tis, upon me conscience!”
“The only thing that remains then, before we proceed to issue the shares and receive deposits, is to decide how many we shall allot to each director ex officio, and how many you gentlemen may desire to retain for—your friends,” observed D’Almayne, glancing expressively towards Mr. Crane as he spoke.