"No; she is fretting—fretting about her old dad. It's wonderful how that creature loves me. Me!—sometimes when she is hanging about me, and singing the songs I like, and making a servant of herself for me, I just look back and think of the scenes I've gone through, and the queer scramble my life has been, and wonder how the dickens it happens that an angel like her can be so fond of an old scapegrace; that she doesn't shrink from me; but she doesn't," with infinite exultation, "she loves me, sir, as well as ever child loved father!"
"Of that I can have no doubt," cried Glynn. "And your affection for her deserves it."
"She has made another man of me," continued Lambert. "But though I have not been a regular saint all my days, I am as white as driven snow compared to some blackguards that hold up their heads in high places. I am rambling on like an idiot. I called to ask if you'll come and dine with us to-night. It cheers me up to see an honest face."
Glynn accepted the invitation readily, and after a pause, during which he drummed on the table, Lambert recommenced.
"I have not had a good time of it since you were away, Glynn. I have been on the brink of ruin through the treachery of a man I thought a friend. But I hope to get over it. I think I'll get over it, and whatever happens, Elsie's little fortune is out of harm's way. I made sure of that. She need never starve."
"Very prudent and proper," returned Glynn. "But I earnestly hope you will escape the loss you mention. Been bitten by a bubble company?"
"No! It's a long story; I'll tell it to you some day, and you'll judge for yourself; but not now, not now. Ah! you are a bright chap, Glynn, strong and steady. If you had a little capital, now, you'd get along first rate." He rose as he spoke and took a turn up and down.
Glynn did not answer his conjectures as to his—Glynn's—financial position; he felt terribly disappointed that Lambert had made no confession of tangible difficulties, and yet he was brimful of some trouble which he could not bring himself to confess. Lambert resumed his seat, and began talking in a rambling fashion of ordinary topics; but his thoughts were evidently elsewhere, and at length he went away, leaving a most painful impression on Glynn's mind, of profound despondency, of mental disquietude which he could not or would not express.
At dinner, some hours later, he either was more cheerful, or assumed a livelier aspect for his daughter's benefit. She seemed to accept the improvement as real, and the evening went quickly. With the help of music and conversation, Lambert, towards the end, seemed to forget his troubles and was more like himself. At parting Elsie gave Glynn an eloquent glance expressive of thanks, of mutual understanding, which sent him away charmed, restless,—longing for their next interview, yet full of dread for the future.
The next day as he was leaving his hotel he ran against Deering, who was coming in. "I am off to Vichy to-day," he said. "I thought I should just let you know. I ought to have gone a week ago, but I met some people that amused me; Lady Harriett Beauchamp and Wedderburn—you know them, I suppose? Shall I find you here when I return?"