“Unfortunate, boy?—it is maddening. But for this I should once more have been a rich man.”
I looked at him curiously, and he saw it.
“Yes,” he said, laughingly, “once more a rich man.”
“Is one any the happier for being rich?” I said.
“Not a bit, my lad. I was rich once, and was a miserable idiot. Mayne, I left college to find myself suddenly in possession of a good fortune,” he continued, pausing excitedly now, and speaking quicker, for Esau had strolled off to a little distance with Quong. “Instead of making good use of it, I listened to a contemptible crew who gathered about me, and wasted my money rapidly in various kinds of gambling, so that at the end of a year I was not only penniless, but face to face with half a dozen heavy debts of honour which I knew I must pay or be disgraced. Bah! why am I telling you all this?”
“No, no; don’t stop,” I said eagerly; “tell me all.”
“Well,” he said, “I will; for I like you, Mayne, and have from the day we first met on board the Albatross. It may be a warning to you. No: I will not insult you by thinking you could ever grow up as I did. For to make up for my losings, I wildly plunged more deeply into the wretched morass, and then in my desperation went to my sister and mother for help.”
“And they helped you?” I said, for he paused.
“Of course, for they loved me in spite of my follies. It was for the last time, I told them, and they signed away every shilling of their fortunes, Mayne, to enable me to pay my debts. And then—”
“And then?” I said, for he had paused again.