However, it was not long before he came round to their view.  He found that Sir Harry, in spite of his gentlemanly speech and bearing, was a battered old roue, who was never happy but when gambling, and whose air and title were baits to victims of a lower class than himself; young clerks and medical students who were flattered by his condescension.  He did not actually fleece them himself, he had too little worldly wisdom for that; but he was the decoy of a coterie of Nyms, Pistols, and Bardolphs, who gathered up the spoil of these and any unwary youth who came to Rockpier in the wake of an invalid, or to ‘see life’ at a fashionable watering-place.  Miles thought the old man was probably reduced to a worse style of company by the very fact of the religious atmosphere of the place, where he himself found so little to do that he longed for the opening of the Session; but he was strongly impressed with the impracticability of a menage for Frank, with the baronet as father-in-law.

Not so, Sir Harry.  He was rather fond of Frank, and had been glad to be no longer bound to oppose the match, and he had benignantly made up his mind to the great sacrifice of living in his house in London, surrounding himself with all his friends, and making the young couple supply him with pocket-money whenever he had a run of ill-luck.  They would grant it more easily than Camilla, and would never presume to keep him under regulation as she had done.  They would be too grateful to him.

So, after a day or two, he demanded of Eleonora whether her young man had given her up, or what he meant by his coolness in not calling?  Lena answered the last count by explaining how unwell he had been, and how his hearing might be lost by a renewal of his cold.  She was however further pressed, and obliged to say how matters stood, namely, that they were engaged, but meant to wait.

Whereupon, Sir Harry, quite sincerely, poor old man, grew compassionate and grandly benignant.  The young people were prudent, but he would come to their aid.  His pittance added to theirs—­even now would set all things straight.  He would never stand in the way of their happiness!

Mrs. Poynsett had bidden Lena cast the whole on her shoulders.  The girl was too truthful and generous to do this, fond as she still was of her father.

“No, dear papa,” she said, “it is very kind in you,” for she knew that so he meant it, “but I am afraid it will not quite do.  You see Frank must be very careful in his situation—­and I don’t think so quiet a way of life would suit you.”

“Nonsense, child; I’m an old man, and I want no racketing.  Just house-room for myself and Victor.  That fellow is worth two women in a house.  You’ll keep a good cook.  I’ll never ask for more than a few old friends to dinner, when I don’t feel disposed to have them at the club.”

Old friends!  Yes, Lenore knew them, and her flesh crept to think of Frank’s chief hearing of them constantly at his house.