There was a pause, and Lady Todman, who had been listening intently to the story, which she evidently intended to retail with a little extra colour at her next temperance meeting, asked what was the poor fellow's end.
"I am glad to say," Sydney replied, "that the day after I left he gathered up what little power was left him, and seeing that his life was hopeless, faced death bravely."
"I hope he was truly penitent before the end," said Lady Todman.
"I think he showed that conclusively," replied Sydney, "when he shot himself."
There was a moment's silence; and then, before anyone could continue the subject, which had become depressing, he turned the drift of talk quite naturally into a new channel, and was very soon keeping most of the party laughing over some comical experiences in the hunting-field. Though he made himself the hero for his own satire, we all knew him well enough to be sure that he was speaking from observation, and not personal experience.
"Well," I said, when the ladies had left us, and I had taken the opportunity to move over next to him, "was it the temperance question which brought you here to-night?"
"No," he replied, "it was not that; but a little private matter, which I hope to be able to accomplish later on."
The conversation then became general, as is usually the case under the friendly influence of tobacco.
We found only two ladies waiting for our arrival in the larger drawing-room, the others had gone into a dimly-lighted and smaller apartment adjoining. Lady Todman informed us, with a look of disgust, that the others were tempting the devil to rap on a circular table, from which we gathered that our hostess was indulging in her favourite occupation of playing at spiritualism.
"You don't seem to approve of spiritualism, Lady Todman," I remarked, rather hoping to draw Sydney into discussion with her on the subject.