“Here,” he said, “between friends we do not want acknowledgment, but business is business.”
Harry signed the paper put before him.
“You need not be afraid of being cross-questioned, Harry,” observed Silas, as they walked home. “It is a comfort to think that your straight-laced guardian is safe across the seas in old Ireland. I am afraid you would think I was talking blasphemy, if I was to pray that he might never come back again, always provided he has left you his heir, which I have an idea he intends to do. In that case, my boy, we each should benefit. You would get his fortune, and I should step into his shoes.”
“Don’t talk so, Sleech,” said Harry. “He’s the best friend I ever had, and I don’t expect to get another like him; and as to his fortune, I pray that he may live to a green old age, and enjoy it himself. I only hope you were joking.” And Harry felt himself getting angry, not the less so that he could not help secretly acknowledging that he had been led by the nose by such an arch-hypocrite as Sleech.
“Of course, of course, I was joking,” said that individual, in the bland tone he could so well assume. “There’s no man I esteem more than our managing clerk, Mr Kyffin, and I admire you for your affection for him, only I don’t think he would be quite satisfied if he knew the way you spend your spare hours.”
Some important business with regard to a heavy mortgage on an estate had taken Mr Kyffin to Ireland; and from the state of the country and other circumstances it seemed probable that he might be detained there for a considerable time. He little thought how serious an influence his absence would have in the destiny of the youth in whose welfare he was so deeply interested.
Not till the next morning did Harry reflect how completely he had put himself in Mr Sleech’s power. He was to dine that day at his uncle’s. He was far from happy; he felt ill; he looked pale. It was not surprising, for he had had but little sleep. His cousins rallied him.
“A London life does not seem to suit you,” said Mr Coppinger. “You stick closely to business, and I am pleased with your diligence. If you apply to me I will allow you a few days’ run down to Hampshire.”
Harry thanked his uncle. After dinner Mr Gilby left the table before the rest of the gentlemen. Harry followed some little time afterwards. When he got into the drawing-room he found Mr Gilby stationed before the young ladies, talking eagerly. Looking up, they saw him. They were silent. Harry heard his own name mentioned.
“I could not help it,” exclaimed Gilby, as he approached. “I have been telling them what a deep fellow you are, Tryon. Why, there’s not a more rollicking blade about town, I suspect, if we come to follow you into all your haunts. I have met you two or three times when you did not see me. Ah! ah! old boy. Well, don’t blush and be ashamed; I don’t set up to be straight-laced. I am not a punctual man of business, no prim knight in buckram.”