CHAPTER VII.

MENTOR.

Lady Carbury's desire for a union between Roger and her daughter was

greatly increased by her solicitude in respect to her son. Since

Roger's offer had first been made, Felix had gone on from bad to

worse, till his condition had become one of hopeless embarrassment.

If her daughter could but be settled in the world, Lady Carbury said

to herself, she could then devote herself to the interests of her

son. She had no very clear idea of what that devotion would be. But

she did know that she had paid so much money for him, and would have

so much more extracted from her, that it might well come to pass that

she would be unable to keep a home for her daughter. In all these

troubles she constantly appealed to Roger Carbury for advice,--which,

however, she never followed. He recommended her to give up her

house in town, to find a home for her daughter elsewhere, and also

for Felix if he would consent to follow her. Should he not so

consent, then let the young man bear the brunt of his own misdoings.

Doubtless, when he could no longer get bread in London he would find

her out. Roger was always severe when he spoke of the baronet,--or

seemed to Lady Carbury to be severe.

But, in truth, she did not ask for advice in order that she might

follow it. She had plans in her head with which she knew that Roger

would not sympathise. She still thought that Sir Felix might bloom

and burst out into grandeur, wealth, and fashion, as the husband of a

great heiress, and in spite of her son's vices, was proud of him in

that anticipation. When he succeeded in obtaining from her money, as

in the case of that £20,--when, with brazen-faced indifference to her

remonstrances, he started off to his club at two in the morning, when

with impudent drollery he almost boasted of the hopelessness of his

debts, a sickness of heart would come upon her, and she would weep

hysterically, and lie the whole night without sleeping. But could he

marry Miss Melmotte, and thus conquer all his troubles by means of

his own personal beauty,--then she would be proud of all that had

passed. With such a condition of mind Roger Carbury could have no

sympathy. To him it seemed that a gentleman was disgraced who owed

money to a tradesman which he could not pay. And Lady Carbury's heart

was high with other hopes,--in spite of her hysterics and her fears.

The "Criminal Queens" might be a great literary success. She almost

thought that it would be a success. Messrs. Leadham and Loiter, the

publishers, were civil to her. Mr. Broune had promised. Mr. Booker

had said that he would see what could be done. She had gathered from

Mr. Alf's caustic and cautious words that the book would be noticed

in the "Evening Pulpit." No;--she would not take dear Roger's advice

as to leaving London. But she would continue to ask Roger's advice.

Men like to have their advice asked. And, if possible, she would

arrange the marriage. What country retirement could be so suitable

for a Lady Carbury when she wished to retire for awhile,--as Carbury

Manor, the seat of her own daughter? And then her mind would fly away

into regions of bliss. If only by the end of this season Henrietta

could be engaged to her cousin, Felix be the husband of the richest

bride in Europe, and she be the acknowledged author of the cleverest

book of the year, what a Paradise of triumph might still be open to

her after all her troubles! Then the sanguine nature of the woman

would bear her up almost to exultation, and for an hour she would be

happy, in spite of everything.

A few days after the ball Roger Carbury was up in town, and was

closeted with her in her back drawing-room. The declared cause

of his coming was the condition of the baronet's affairs and the

indispensable necessity,--so Roger thought,--of taking some steps by

which at any rate the young man's present expenses might be brought

to an end. It was horrible to him that a man who had not a shilling

in the world or any prospect of a shilling, who had nothing and never

thought of earning anything, should have hunters! He was very much in

earnest about it, and quite prepared to speak his mind to the young

man himself,--if he could get hold of him. "Where is he now, Lady

Carbury;--at this moment?"

"I think he's out with the Baron." Being "out with the Baron" meant

that the young man was hunting with the stag hounds some forty miles

away from London.

"How does he manage it? Whose horses does he ride? Who pays for

them?"

"Don't be angry with me, Roger. What can I do to prevent it?"

"I think you should refuse to have anything to do with him while he

continues in such courses."

"My own son!"

"Yes;--exactly. But what is to be the end of it? Is he to be allowed

to ruin you, and Hetta? It can't go on long."

"You wouldn't have me throw him over."

"I think he is throwing you over. And then it is so thoroughly

dishonest,--so ungentlemanlike! I don't understand how it goes on

from day to day. I suppose you don't supply him with ready money."

"He has had a little."

Roger frowned angrily. "I can understand that you should provide him

with bed and food, but not that you should pander to his vices by

giving him money." This was very plain speaking, and Lady Carbury

winced under it. "The kind of life that he is leading requires a

large income of itself. I understand the thing, and know that with

all I have in the world I could not do it myself."

"You are so different."

"I am older of course,--very much older. But he is not so young that

he should not begin to comprehend. Has he any money beyond what you

give him?"

Then Lady Carbury revealed certain suspicions which she had begun to

entertain during the last day or two. "I think he has been playing."

"That is the way to lose money,--not to get it," said Roger.

"I suppose somebody wins,--sometimes."

"They who win are the sharpers. They who lose are the dupes. I would

sooner that he were a fool than a knave."

"O Roger, you are so severe!"

"You say he plays. How would he pay, were he to lose?"

"I know nothing about it. I don't even know that he does play; but

I have reason to think that during the last week he has had money at

his command. Indeed I have seen it. He comes home at all manner of

hours and sleeps late. Yesterday I went into his room about ten and

did not wake him. There were notes and gold lying on his table;--ever

so much."

"Why did you not take them?"

"What; rob my own boy?"

"When you tell me that you are absolutely in want of money to pay

your own bills, and that he has not hesitated to take yours from you!

Why does he not repay you what he has borrowed?"

"Ah, indeed;--why not? He ought to if he has it. And there were

papers there;--I. O. U.'s, signed by other men."

"You looked at them."

"I saw as much as that. It is not that I am curious, but one does

feel about one's own son. I think he has bought another horse. A

groom came here and said something about it to the servants."

"Oh dear;--oh dear!"

"If you could only induce him to stop the gambling! Of course it is

very bad whether he wins or loses,--though I am sure that Felix would

do nothing unfair. Nobody ever said that of him. If he has won money,

it would be a great comfort if he would let me have some of it,--for,

to tell the truth, I hardly know how to turn. I am sure nobody can

say that I spend it on myself."

Then Roger again repeated his advice. There could be no use in

attempting to keep up the present kind of life in Welbeck Street.

Welbeck Street might be very well without a penniless spendthrift

such as Sir Felix, but must be ruinous under the present conditions.

If Lady Carbury felt, as no doubt she did feel, bound to afford a

home to her ruined son in spite of all his wickedness and folly, that

home should be found far away from London. If he chose to remain in

London, let him do so on his own resources. The young man should make

up his mind to do something for himself. A career might possibly be

opened for him in India. "If he be a man he would sooner break stones

than live on you," said Roger. Yes, he would see his cousin to-morrow

and speak to him;--that is if he could possibly find him. "Young men

who gamble all night, and hunt all day are not easily found." But

he would come at twelve as Felix generally breakfasted at that hour.

Then he gave an assurance to Lady Carbury which to her was not the

least comfortable part of the interview. In the event of her son not

giving her the money which she at once required he, Roger, would lend

her a hundred pounds till her half year's income should be due. After

that his voice changed altogether, as he asked a question on another

subject, "Can I see Henrietta to-morrow?"

"Certainly;--why not? She is at home now, I think."

"I will wait till to-morrow,--when I call to see Felix. I should like

her to know that I am coming. Paul Montague was in town the other

day. He was here, I suppose?"

"Yes;--he called."

"Was that all you saw of him?"

"He was at the Melmottes' ball. Felix got a card for him;--and we

were there. Has he gone down to Carbury?"

"No;--not to Carbury. I think he had some business about his partners

at Liverpool. There is another case of a young man without anything

to do. Not that Paul is at all like Sir Felix." This he was induced

to say by the spirit of honesty which was always strong within him.

"Don't be too hard upon poor Felix," said Lady Carbury. Roger, as he

took his leave, thought that it would be impossible to be too hard

upon Sir Felix Carbury.

The next morning Lady Carbury was in her son's bedroom before he was

up, and with incredible weakness told him that his cousin Roger was

coming to lecture him. "What the Devil's the use of it?" said Felix

from beneath the bedclothes.

"If you speak to me in that way, Felix, I must leave the room."

"But what is the use of his coming to me? I know what he has got to

say just as if it were said. It's all very well preaching sermons

to good people, but nothing ever was got by preaching to people who

ain't good."

"Why shouldn't you be good?"

"I shall do very well, mother, if that fellow will leave me alone. I

can play my hand better than he can play it for me. If you'll go now

I'll get up." She had intended to ask him for some of the money which

she believed he still possessed, but her courage failed her. If she

asked for his money, and took it, she would in some fashion recognise

and tacitly approve his gambling. It was not yet eleven, and it was

early for him to leave his bed; but he had resolved that he would get

out of the house before that horrible bore should be upon him with

his sermon. To do this he must be energetic. He was actually eating

his breakfast at half-past eleven, and had already contrived in

his mind how he would turn the wrong way as soon as he got into

the street,--towards Marylebone Road, by which route Roger would

certainly not come. He left the house at ten minutes before twelve,

cunningly turned away, dodging round by the first corner,--and just

as he had turned it encountered his cousin. Roger, anxious in regard

to his errand, with time at his command, had come before the hour

appointed and had strolled about, thinking not of Felix but of

Felix's sister. The baronet felt that he had been caught,--caught

unfairly, but by no means abandoned all hope of escape. "I was going

to your mother's house on purpose to see you," said Roger.

"Were you indeed? I am so sorry. I have an engagement out here with a

fellow which I must keep. I could meet you at any other time, you

know."

"You can come back for ten minutes," said Roger, taking him by the

arm.

"Well;--not conveniently at this moment."

"You must manage it. I am here at your mother's request, and can't

afford to remain in town day after day looking for you. I go down

to Carbury this afternoon. Your friend can wait. Come along." His

firmness was too much for Felix, who lacked the courage to shake

his cousin off violently, and to go his way. But as he returned

he fortified himself with the remembrance of all the money in his

pocket,--for he still had his winnings,--remembered too certain sweet

words which had passed between him and Marie Melmotte since the ball,

and resolved that he would not be "sat upon" by Roger Carbury. The

time was coming,--he might almost say that the time had come,--in

which he might defy Roger Carbury. Nevertheless, he dreaded the words

which were now to be spoken to him with a craven fear.

"Your mother tells me," said Roger, "that you still keep hunters."

"I don't know what she calls hunters. I have one that I didn't part

with when the others went."

"You have only one horse?"

"Well;--if you want to be exact, I have a hack as well as the horse

I ride."

"And another up here in town?"

"Who told you that? No; I haven't. At least there is one staying at

some stables which has been sent for me to look at."

"Who pays for all these horses?"

"At any rate I shall not ask you to pay for them."

"No;--you would be afraid to do that. But you have no scruple in

asking your mother, though you should force her to come to me or to

other friends for assistance. You have squandered every shilling of

your own, and now you are ruining her."

"That isn't true. I have money of my own."

"Where did you get it?"

"This is all very well, Roger; but I don't know that you have any

right to ask me these questions. I have money. If I buy a horse I can

pay for it. If I keep one or two I can pay for them. Of course I owe

a lot of money, but other people owe me money too. I'm all right, and

you needn't frighten yourself."

"Then why do you beg her last shilling from your mother, and when you

have money not pay it back to her?"

"She can have the twenty pounds, if you mean that."

"I mean that, and a good deal more than that. I suppose you have been

gambling."

"I don't know that I am bound to answer your questions, and I

won't do it. If you have nothing else to say, I'll go about my own

business."

"I have something else to say, and I mean to say it." Felix had

walked towards the door, but Roger was before him, and now leaned his

back against it.

"I am not going to be kept here against my will," said Felix.

"You have to listen to me, so you may as well sit still. Do you wish

to be looked upon as a blackguard by all the world?"

"Oh,--go on."

"That is what it will be. You have spent every shilling of your

own,--and because your mother is affectionate and weak, you are now

spending all that she has, and are bringing her and your sister to

beggary."

"I don't ask them to pay anything for me."

"Not when you borrow her money?"

"There is the £20. Take it and give it her," said Felix, counting the

notes out of the pocket-book. "When I asked her for it, I did not

think she would make such a row about such a trifle." Roger took up

the notes and thrust them into his pocket. "Now, have you done?" said

Felix.

[Illustration: "There's the £20."]

"Not quite. Do you purpose that your mother should keep you and

clothe you for the rest of your life?"

"I hope to be able to keep her before long, and to do it much better

than it has ever been done before. The truth is, Roger, you know

nothing about it. If you'll leave me to myself, you'll find that I

shall do very well."

"I don't know any young man who ever did worse, or one who had less

moral conception of what is right and wrong."

"Very well. That's your idea. I differ from you. People can't all

think alike, you know. Now, if you please, I'll go."

Roger felt that he hadn't half said what he had to say, but he hardly

knew how to get it said. And of what use could it be to talk to a

young man who was altogether callous and without feeling? The remedy

for the evil ought to be found in the mother's conduct rather than

the son's. She, were she not foolishly weak, would make up her mind

to divide herself utterly from her son, at any rate for a while, and

to leave him to suffer utter penury. That would bring him round. And

then when the agony of want had tamed him, he would be content to

take bread and meat from her hand and would be humble. At present he

had money in his pocket, and would eat and drink of the best, and

be free from inconvenience for the moment. While this prosperity

remained it would be impossible to touch him. "You will ruin your

sister, and break your mother's heart," said Roger, firing a last

harmless shot after the young reprobate.

When Lady Carbury came into the room, which she did as soon as the

front door was closed behind her son, she seemed to think that a

great success had been achieved because the £20 had been recovered.

"I knew he would give it me back, if he had it," she said.

"Why did he not bring it to you of his own accord?"

"I suppose he did not like to talk about it. Has he said that he got

it by--playing?"

"No,--he did not speak a word of truth while he was here. You may

take it for granted that he did get it by gambling. How else should

he have it? And you may take it for granted also that he will lose

all that he has got. He talked in the wildest way,--saying that he

would soon have a home for you and Hetta."

"Did he;--dear boy!"

"Had he any meaning?"

"Oh; yes. And it is quite on the cards that it should be so. You have

heard of Miss Melmotte."

"I have heard of the great French swindler who has come over here,

and who is buying his way into society."

"Everybody visits them now, Roger."

"More shame for everybody. Who knows anything about him,--except that

he left Paris with the reputation of a specially prosperous rogue?

But what of him?"

"Some people think that Felix will marry his only child. Felix is

handsome; isn't he? What young man is there nearly so handsome? They

say she'll have half a million of money."

"That's his game;--is it?"

"Don't you think he is right?"

"No; I think he's wrong. But we shall hardly agree with each other

about that. Can I see Henrietta for a few minutes?"