But, although the run had ceased, upwards of thirty thousand pounds had been withdrawn, and only five thousand found its way back again, and that was decidedly bad. The Bank was not in the least jeopardy. Sir Alexander Midharst's half a million had saved it; but the baronet's money was not only not returning, but the balance of it in hand began to run low.
Notwithstanding all this business pressure and the perilous position in which Grey stood, no one could detect in his face or manner a clue to the anxiety which consumed him. Still he was the same joyous companion, the same jovial host, the same considerate employer, the same liberal patron.
To his mother he displayed the best view of his position. He showed her how the steamship business had fallen in to him because he was in funds and could give accommodation beyond the power of his local rival. He admitted the loss in London, but pointed out how the loss and the run, taken together, must end in great advantage to his Bank.
She heard not only his story, but, from all who spoke to her on the subject, congratulations upon the Bank's position and his great prudence and good sense. He told her the money from Boston had not only saved him, but had so improved his resources that the Bank was now in fully as good a position as at any time during his father's lifetime.
Hard as the business affairs of Mr. Grey pressed upon him, and difficult as he felt the burden, they were not all the troubles he had to endure.
In order to prevent bankruptcy he had committed fraud. Up to this time he had carried on that fraud without exciting a hint of suspicion. The man whose money he had appropriated to his own use not only felt no misgivings as to the safety of his vast hoard, but had recently lavished upon him, Grey, the last proofs of implicit confidence when placing practically all that fortune and the care of the heiress in his hands.
But, as well as the pressure of his business and the weight of his crime, he had other difficulties to endure. He still entertained his friends with his usual hospitality and good grace, but the condition of the inner circle of his domestic life grew daily harder and harder to bear.
The eccentricity of Mrs. Grey developed with time, and, still more unfortunately, the terrible infirmity to which she had given way increased upon her with the years.
She was childless; she was alone all day in that great strange house; few people called upon her, and she rarely went out. Her husband was always kind in manner towards her, and she could ask for nothing he would not get her. But she knew he and she were not one, that they never had been one, that they never could be one.
Mr. Grey did not lunch at home, so that Mrs. Grey usually had luncheon by herself, except upon the rare occasions when one of her few acquaintances called and stayed.