He was aware, however, of a certain drawback.  Lady Mabel as his wife would be his superior, and in some degrees his master.  Though not older she was wiser than he,—­and not only wiser but more powerful also.  And he was not quite sure but that she regarded him as a boy.  He thought that she did love him,—­or would do so if he asked her,—­but that her love would be bestowed upon him as on an inferior creature.  He was already jealous of his own dignity, and fearful lest he should miss the glory of being loved by this lovely one for his own sake,—­for his own manhood, and his own gifts and character.

And yet his attraction to her was so great that now in the day of his sorrow he could think of no solace but what was to be found in her company.  ‘Not at the Oaks!’ she said as soon as he was shown into the drawing-room.

‘No,—­not at the Oaks.  Lord Grex is there, I suppose?’

‘Oh yes;—­that is a matter of course.  Why are you a recreant?’

‘The House sits today.’

’How virtuous!  Is it coming to that,—­that when the House sits you will never be absent?’

’That’s the kind of life I’m going to lead.  You haven’t heard about Gerald?’

‘About your brother?’

‘Yes;—­you haven’t heard?’

‘Not a word.  I hope there is not misfortune.’

‘But indeed there is,—­a most terrible misfortune.’  Then he told the whole story.  How Gerald had been kept in London, and how he had gone down to Cambridge,—­all in vain; how his father had taken the matter to heart, telling him that he had ruined his brother; and how he, in consequence, had determined not to go to the races.  ‘Then he said,’ continued Silverbridge, ’that his children between them would bring him to his grave.’

‘That was terrible.’

‘Very terrible.’

‘But what did he mean by that?’ asked Lady Mabel, anxious to hear something about Lady Mary and Tregear.

’Well; of course what I did at Oxford made him unhappy; and now there is this affair of Gerald’s.’

‘He did not allude to your sister?’

‘Yes he did.  You have heard of all that.  Tregear told you.’

‘He told me something.’

‘Of course my father does not like it.’

‘Do you approve of it?’

‘No,’ said he—­curtly and sturdily.

‘Why not?  You like Tregear.’

’Certainly I like Tregear.  He is the friend among men, whom I like the best.  I have only two real friends.’

‘Who are they?’ she asked, sinking her voice very low.

‘He is one;—­and you are the other.  You know that.’

‘I hoped that I was one,’ she said.  ’But if you love Tregear so dearly, why do you not approve of him for your sister?’

‘I always knew that it would not do.’

‘But why not?’

‘Mary ought to marry a man of higher standing.’

’Of higher rank you mean.  The daughter of Dukes have married commoners before.’