It was then that Harry, taking the paper and eyeing the chaplain with rather a wicked look, burst into a laugh, which was, however, anything but jovial. Wicked execrations, moreover, accompanied this outbreak of humour, and the luckless chaplain felt that his petition had come at the wrong moment.
“Confound it, why didn't you bring it on Monday?” Harry asked.
“Confound me, why did I not bring it on Monday?” echoed the chaplain's timid soul. “It is my luck—my usual luck. Have the cards been against you, Mr. Warrington?”
“Yes: a plague on them. Monday night, and last night, have both gone against me. Don't be frightened, chaplain, there's money enough in the locker yet. But I must go into the City and get some.”
“What, sell out, sir?” asks his reverence, with a voice that was reassured, though it intended to be alarmed.
“Sell out, sir? Yes! I borrowed a hundred off Mackreth in counters last night, and must pay him at dinner-time. I will do your business for you nevertheless, and never fear, my good Mr. Sampson. Come to breakfast to-morrow, and we will see and deliver your reverence from the Philistines.” But though he laughed in Sampson's presence, and strove to put a good face upon the matter, Harry's head sank down on his chest when the parson quitted him, and he sate over the fire, beating the coals about with the poker, and giving utterance to many disjointed naughty words, which showed, but did not relieve, the agitation of his spirit.
In this mood, the young fellow was interrupted by the appearance of a friend, who, on any other day—even on that one when his conscience was so uneasy—was welcome to Mr. Warrington. This was no other than Mr. Lambert, in his military dress, but with a cloak over him, who had come from the country, had been to the Captain-General's levee that morning, and had come thence to visit his young friend in Bond Street.
Harry may have thought Lambert's greeting rather cold; but being occupied with his own affairs, he put away the notion. How were the ladies of Oakhurst, and Miss Hetty, who was ailing when he passed through in the autumn? Purely? Mr. Warrington was very glad. They were come to stay a while in London with their friend, Lord Wrotham? Mr. Harry was delighted—though it must be confessed his face did not exhibit any peculiar signs of pleasure when he heard the news.
“And so you live at White's, and with the great folks; and you fare sumptuously every day, and you pay your court at St. James's, and make one at my Lady Yarmouth's routs, and at all the card-parties in the Court end of the town?” asks the Colonel.
“My dear Colonel, I do what other folks do,” says Harry, with rather a high manner.