“You had better take the reins, sir,” said Harry. “I told you you had better take them.”
“Did you ever know me fail you, Harry?” George asked.
“No,” said the other, “not till now”—the tears were rolling down his cheeks as he spoke.
“My dear, I think one day you will say I have done my duty.”
“What have you done? asked Harry.
“I have said you were a younger brother—that you have spent all your patrimony, and that your portion at home must be very slender. Is it not true?”
“Yes, but I would not have believed it, if ten thousand men had told me,” said Harry. “Whatever happened to me, I thought I could trust you, George Warrington.” And in this frame of mind Harry remained during the rest of the drive.
Their dinner was served soon after their return to their lodgings, of which Harry scarce ate any, though he drank freely of the wine before him.
“That wine is a bad consoler in trouble, Harry,” his brother remarked.
“I have no other, sir,” said Harry, grimly; and having drunk glass after glass in silence, he presently seized his hat, and left the room.