He and Dr. Downes, being fellow-sufferers, for the Doctor had never heard more of his gold snuff-box, had got into the habit of talking with one another. Talking begets talking, and perhaps the old Doctor said more than he had meant to say. Anyway, one day the Vicar heard for the first time about Philip's frequent visits to the billiard-room of the Rose and Crown, and about the high play with Lord Camberley and others that went on at The Lilacs.
"What a young idiot he must be!" exclaimed the indignant Vicar: and Dr. Downes nodded assent.
"And if there's anything between Cleeve and your daughter, as I fancy there is," added the old man, "I should put my veto on it--at least for the present. Master Philip has fallen into bad ways, that's quite evident; and even if these ugly suspicions about him should turn out to have no foundation in fact, he ought to alter very much before he is fit to marry so nice a girl as Maria."
The Vicar ruffled his white hair with his fingers, and could not help admitting that the Doctor's view was the right one. There had been a sort of tacit agreement between himself and Lady Cleeve that one day the two young people should marry, provided they cared sufficiently for each other: and--and he believed they did care. It grieved him to see his old friend's son going so far astray; but his duty to his daughter was paramount, and other considerations must give way to it.
After Maria's return from Leamington, the Vicar spoke to her, entering upon the subject abruptly.
"Maria, I hope there is no foolish engagement between you and Philip Cleeve?"
Maria's heart began to beat. "There is no engagement, papa."
"But something has passed between you, has it not? He has said something to you, eh?"
"Philip certainly spoke to me before I went to Leamington; but, papa, there is not an engagement."
"Should he speak to you again you must give him no encouragement; none whatever. Understand that, Maria."