The conversation between the Major and the waiter, displaying as it did a fearful instance of the results of gaming, had made a deep impression upon Albert Egerton; and for some time he was thoughtful and serious.
But Dunstable attacked him so adroitly with the artillery of flattery—the waiter offered him claret so frequently—the excitement of the play appeared so agreeable—and the fear of losing ground in the good opinion of his aristocratic acquaintances was so strong in his mind, that he seized the dice-box, staked his money, lost as usual, and was conducted home in a state of intoxication at about half-past three in the morning.
In the meantime the unfortunate Major Anderson—for such was his name—had received substantial proofs of that goodness of heart which prompted the Prince of Montoni to espouse his cause against the brutal insolence of Crockford's waiter.
Immediately after the carriage rolled away from the corner of St. James's Street, Richard drew forth his pocket-book, and placed a bank-note, accompanied by his card, in the Major's hand.
"By means of this temporary relief, sir," he said, "you can place yourself in a somewhat more comfortable position than that in which I deeply regret to find you; and, when you feel inclined to see me again, be good enough to write me a note to that effect, so that I may call upon you. For, if it would not be impertinently prying into your affairs, I should wish to learn the sad narrative of those reverses which have so reduced a gentleman of your rank and station."
"Oh! sir—whoever you are," exclaimed the Major—for it was too dark to permit him to read his benefactor's card,—"how can I ever sufficiently thank you for this noble—this generous conduct? But think not that your bounty will have been bestowed in vain—think not that I would risk one sixpence of this sum—whatever be its amount—at the gaming-table! Oh! my God—who would ever play again, that had been in such misery as I? No, sir—no: I would rather throw myself headlong from one of the bridges into the silent waters of the Thames, than enter the gamblers' den!"
"Then let me tell you frankly," said Markham, much moved by the touching sincerity of the ruined officer's tone and manner,—"let me tell you frankly that my object, in wishing to see you again, was to satisfy myself that you had in reality abjured the detestable vice which has beggared you, and that you are deserving of all I am prepared to do for your benefit."
"To-morrow afternoon, sir," answered the Major, "I will take the liberty of writing to you; for by that time I shall once more be the possessor of some humble lodging. And now, with your permission, I will alight here."
Richard pulled the check-string; and the carriage stopped in Oxford Street.