Matters were arranged with Mr. Tiplady: and that gentleman had already ordered a new brass plate for his office-door--"Messrs. Tiplady and Cleeve; Architects and Surveyors." The necessary money had been paid by Maria: and the Vicar did not withhold his sanction. Philip would take a fair income for a year or two, then become full partner, and succeed to the whole whenever it should please Mr. Tiplady to retire. It was a very fair prospect, and the Reverend Mr. Kettle saw no cause to grumble at it.
One little clause, known only to Mr. Daventry, who drew it up, to Mr. Tiplady, and to Philip, was inserted in the deed of partnership. It was to the effect that Philip could not come upon the firm for any money whatever beyond his salary; if he contracted debts, Mr. Tiplady was secured from the fear of having to pay them.
"It is only a matter of precaution, Cleeve, inserted as much for your own sake as for mine," Mr. Tiplady said to him in private. "I have not much fear that you will be playing cards for high stakes again, or betting at billiards. Or," added the architect, with a grim smile, "investing your spare cash in silver mines."
"Never again; never again," whispered Philip, tears of emotion filling his eyes, as he clasped the hand of his good friend.
The paying of the money had been a surprise to Mr. Tiplady, knowing, as he did, Philip's penniless state. Without saying a word to her husband, Maria had gone to Mr. Tiplady, and had made over to him the twelve hundred pounds which, long before, he had agreed with Lady Cleeve should be the amount of premium to be paid him in consideration of taking Philip into partnership. How gratifying to Philip it was to know that his mother was never to hear the truth of his folly; that she was to be left in the belief that the money she had made him a loving present of on his birthday, had all gone in the silver mine! In her fond eyes Philip always remained the most peerless of sons. What a weight was lifted off the young man's heart by this generous act of his wife! From that day forward his health improved rapidly; he grew again like the merry, light-hearted Philip Cleeve of old times, his laugh a pleasure to hear. But the lesson taught him was not one to be readily forgotten. And there would be one sweet presence ever by his side to see that his footsteps did not falter, and to cheer him onward whenever the road before him seemed hard and difficult to travel. Philip Cleeve had learnt his life's lesson.
In truth, he had been more lucky than he deserved, and he was to be more so yet. Apart from his past follies, the one item of remembrance that made him wince was the thought that his wife should have sacrificed a great portion of her little fortune to patch up his. Even this bitterness was to be taken from him.
Just at this time his brother, Sir Gunton Cleeve, was despatched to England on some mission by the embassy to which he was attached; and he snatched an opportunity to run down to Homedale for four-and-twenty hours. To him Philip made a clean breast of the past, confessing everything: the card-playing, the billiard-playing, the personal extravagance in the shape of petty ornaments and the like; and the voracious silver mine that had quite finished him.
"Why, what a silly young fellow you must have been!" exclaimed the baronet.
"I know it, Gunton, to my cost. I shall know it all my days."
Sir Gunton had sown a few wild oats during his youth, though he had long ago steadied down, and he was not inclined to be too severe.