REVELATIONS
"Yes, I believe he really loved her. He gave up drink, and although to his acquaintances he seemed as cynical and faithless as ever, I saw a change had come over him. He chose me for his best man at the wedding. Well, on the eve of the wedding-day Miss Castlemaine got a letter, telling her the whole story. Personally, I believe Sprague wrote it. I suppose the letter seemed to prove up to the hilt that Leicester was simply playing the game to win his bet, and that although he was prepared to marry her, he was doing so because she was one of the richest heiresses in London."
"Well?"
"The wedding never came off. When he went to see her, she drove him from the house. I was there, and I saw and heard everything. I shall never forget Leicester's look as long as I live. I did my best for him, but in vain. She went abroad, and he—went to the devil."
"Tell me how, my friend."
"He flew to whisky; he gave himself over to the devil. Then the General Election came off, and he went to his constituency, only to fall down on the platform, at a public meeting, in a state of maudlin drunkenness. He was hooted out of the constituency. Where he went, God only knows. But a few weeks later his body was found washed on the steps by Blackfriars Bridge."
"Ecco! that is almost a tragedy, eh?" and Ricordo laughed almost merrily.
"It was tragedy to me; for, to tell the truth, I liked him. I had seen more of him than perhaps any other."
"And she, my friend—did she grieve?"
"I don't know. I should think not. I heard that a few weeks later her father had bought Vale Linden and that she was making merry with her friends."