While the tables were being prepared, Guy began to tell his late adventure. He spoke of it very lightly, but he thought, if he passed it over altogether, Mohun would probably betray him.
Immediately there was a great cry for a sight of the performances of the unknown genius.
Livingstone looked over the drawings himself carefully, and then passed them to the man who sat nearest him. "I have seen worse," he said. "There is no signature, and I shall not give you the address. You are none of you just the patrons she would fancy. You don't care much for high art."
Among the guests was Horace Levinge, a pale, dark man, with a face that was decidedly handsome, in spite of its Jewish contour, and the excessive fullness of the scarlet, sensual lips. His grandfather, report said, had been a prize-fighting Israelite, and afterward a celebrated betting-man—equally eminent in either ring for an unscrupulous scoundrelism which made his fortune. His father had added to the family treasure and importance by cautious usury and adventurous stock-jobbing. Horace himself was a gentleman at large, with no other profession than the consistent pursuit of all kinds of debauchery. He was calculating even in his pleasures, and, they say, kept a regular ledger and daybook of the moneys disbursed in his vices.
When the drawings came to him, he glanced at them for a moment, and then threw them down with a little contemptuous laugh.
"I am sorry to spoil your romance, Livingstone, but I have a pretty good right to recognize the artist's touch. You know her, some of you; it is Fanny Challoner."
"What! the girl you sent away about three weeks ago?" some one asked. "Poor thing! she was not sorry, I should think. She had a hard time of it before she left you."
"Precisely," Levinge replied. "Her modesty and high moral principles, which I never could quite subdue, gave a zest to the thing at first. You understand?—a sort of caviare flavor. But at last it bored me horribly. I really believe she had a conscience. Can you conceive any thing so out of place? I did offer her a little money when she went away, but she would not take any, and said she would try to maintain herself honestly. Bah! I defy her. She was a governess, you know, when I took her first, so she is trying some of the old accomplishments. I wish you joy of your protégée, Livingstone; and as for her address, if any of you want it, I will give it you to-morrow."
Before Guy could reply Mohun broke in. While Levinge had been speaking, the colonel's face had grown very dark and threatening.
"Did her father live near Walmer? And was he a half-pay officer?"