“And yet you do not scruple to come and live here at my cost.”
“Not in the least. At whose cost can I live with less scruple than at yours? You, at any rate, have not robbed our mother of her good name, as my father has done. The only one of the family with whom I could not stay is the governor. I could not sit at the table with a man who has so disgraced himself.”
“Upon my word I am very much obliged to you for the honor you do me.”
“That’s my feeling. The chance of the game and his villany have given you for the moment the possession of all the good things. They are all mine by rights.”
“Cards have had nothing to do with it.”
“Yes; they have. But they have had nothing to do with my being the eldest legitimate son of my father. The cards have been against me, but they have not affected my mother. Then there came the blow from the governor, and where was I to look for my bread but to you? I suppose, if the truth be known, you get the money from the governor.”
“Of course I do. But not for your maintenance.”
“On what does he suppose that I have been living since last June? It mayn’t be in the bond, but I suppose he has made allowance for my maintenance. Do you mean to say that I am not to have bread-and-cheese out of Tretton?”
“If I were to turn you out of these rooms you’d find it very difficult to get it.”
“I don’t think you’ll do that.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“You’re meditating it,—are you? I shouldn’t go just at present, because I have not got a sovereign in the world. I was going to speak to you about money. You must let me have some.”
“Upon my word, I like your impudence!”
“What the devil am I to do? The governor has asked me to go down to Tretton, and I can’t go without a five-pound note in my pocket.”
“The governor has asked you to Tretton?”
“Why not? I got a letter from him this morning.” Then Augustus asked to see the letter, but Mountjoy refused to show it. From this there arose angry words, and Augustus told his brother that he did not believe him. “Not believe me? You do believe me! You know that what I say is the truth, He has asked me with all his usual soft soap. But I have refused to go. I told him that I could not go to the house of one who had injured my mother so seriously.”
All that Mountjoy said as to the proposed visit to Tretton was true. The squire had written to him without mentioning the name of Augustus, and had told him that, for the present, Tretton would be the best home for him. “I will do what I can to make you happy, but you will not see a card,” the squire had said. It was not the want of cards which prevented Mountjoy, but a feeling on his part that for the future there could be nothing but war between him and his father. It was out of the question that he should accept his father’s hospitality without telling him of his intention, and he did not know his father well enough to feel that such a declaration would not affect him at all. He had, therefore, declined.