"My wish is good enough. As to the probability—it is nowhere."
"Creditors are not as hard as they are sometimes represented, Gerard. I can assure you of that. I have always found them reasonable."
Gerard laughed outright. "I dare say you have, Sir Francis. It would be an odd creditor that would be hard to you."
"Ah, but I meant when I have dealt with them for other people," replied Sir Francis, joining in the laugh.
"And if I did get back to London, I should have nothing to live upon," resumed Gerard. "The pittance that I half starve upon in these cheap places, I might wholly starve upon there. I often wish I could get employed as a clerk; no one but myself knows how thankful I should be. But with this other thing hanging over my head, who'd give me a recommendation, and who'd take me without one!"
"Well, well, we will see, Gerard. It is a long lane that has no turning."
They talked yet further, and then Gerard said good-night. And in the morning Sir Francis Netherleigh heard the welcome tidings that the wind had gone down sufficiently to allow the mail-packet to venture out. So he went in her to England.
[CHAPTER XXXIII.]
DESPAIR.
The year had gone on, and the season was at its height. In the breakfast-room at Sir Francis Netherleigh's house in Grosvenor Square sat his sister, waiting to pour out the coffee. Ah, how different things were from what they had been in his wife's time! Then he had to wait upon himself at breakfast, often to take it alone; now he always found his sister down before him.