“From Mr Coppinger,” answered the messenger. “It is about a matter of importance, and he told me to see you immediately.”
“What is it? Is it about my son?” asked Mr Sleech, in a nervous voice.
“I believe so; but that will tell you,” said the man, delivering the letter he held in his hand. Mr Sleech, in his eagerness, tore it open, forgetting at the moment by whom he was surrounded. His eyes ran rapidly over the paper. With unrepressed anger he broke silence, exclaiming—
“My son accused of forgery! It is a lie. Mr Coppinger is a base liar; I will bring an action against him for defamation of character.”
The Misses Coppinger, unfortunately, were standing near at the time, and were very naturally indignant at hearing their father thus spoken of.
“The letter says true enough, I have no doubt,” observed Mr Gilby, who had been dancing with one of the young ladies. “If the son he speaks of is Silas Sleech, a more arrant rogue does not exist. I am very certain that he led that young Harry Tryon purposely into all sorts of scrapes, and drove him off at last to sea. Poor fellow! I don’t think I told you what I know about him.”
His remarks were cut short by the confusion which ensued in consequence of Mr Sleech’s behaviour. The letter he had received, although sent in kindness, had completely overcome him. Had he been in his usual state of composure he would probably have put it in his pocket, and kept its contents secret; but being already excited, having paid constant visits to the refreshment-room in order to keep up his spirits, it drove him beside himself. In vain his friends tried to pacify him. He rushed round the room, exclaiming again, “It is a lie! It is a base lie! My son a rogue! The heir of Stanmore accused of forgery! It is impossible; it is impossible! I defy any one to prove it.”
Thus the wretched man went on proclaiming his son’s infamy and his own disgrace. Several of the guests, who had been somewhat unwilling to come, on this ordered their carriages. Even the most heartless felt that they could not with propriety remain, and thus the greater part of the company followed the example of the first.
The Misses Coppinger and their aunt got away immediately, attended by Mr Gilby; and in a short time the gaily-bedecked and highly-lighted rooms were deserted by all the guests, while his children could with difficulty get their father to his room, still but little pacified. The people said, not without reason, that the balls at Stanmore were destined to have a disastrous termination.