“Yes, yes!” he cried excitedly, as he got up and began to pace the verandah. “I stop away because my presence was like a standing reproach to him. The abstinence gives me intense pain, but my going tended to make them unhappy, and caused constraint, so I stop away.”
“And so you think that they will raise him to their standard, do you?” said Mrs Otway dryly.
“Yes, I do,” he cried fervently. “It is only a matter of time.”
“How can you be so self-deceiving?” she cried quickly. “He is dragging them down to his level.”
“Oh, hush!” cried Bayle passionately. Then mastering his emotion, he continued in his old, firm, quiet way: “No, no; you must not say that. He could not. It is impossible.”
“Yes. You are wrong there, Bel,” said the Captain. “Mrs Hallam is made of too good stuff.”
“I give in,” said Mrs Otway, nodding. “Yes, you two are right. He could not bring that sweet woman down to his level; but all this is very terrible. The man is giving himself up to a life of sensuality. Drinking and feasting with that companion of his. There is gambling going on too at night with friends of his own stamp. What a life this is for a refined lady and her child!”
Bayle spoke calmly, but he wiped the great drops of sweat from his brow.
“What can I do?” he said. “I am perfectly helpless.”
“I confess I don’t know,” said Mrs Otway, with a sigh. “Only you and Sir Gordon must be at hand to help them in any emergency.”