Harry could think of but one way to do that.
‘Yes, and if I do—all up with the old lady,’ he said, and had to explain that his Grandmama Bonner would never leave a penny to a fellow who had fought a duel.
‘A duel!’ said Mrs. Shorne. ’No, there are other ways. Insist upon his renouncing her. And Rose—treat her with a high hand, as becomes you. Your mother is incorrigible, and as for your father, one knows him of old. This devolves upon you. Our family honour is in your hands, Harry.’
Considering Harry’s reputation, the family honour must have got low: Harry, of course, was not disposed to think so. He discovered a great deal of unused pride within him, for which he had hitherto not found an agreeable vent. He vowed to his aunt that he would not suffer the disgrace, and while still that blandishing olive-hued visage swam before his eyes, he pledged his word to Mrs. Shorne that he would come to an understanding with Harrington that night.
‘Quietly,’ said she. ‘No scandal, pray.’
‘Oh, never mind how I do it,’ returned Harry, manfully. ’How am I to do it, then?’ he added, suddenly remembering his debt to Evan.
Mrs. Shorne instructed him how to do it quietly, and without fear of scandal. The miserable champion replied that it was very well for her to tell him to say this and that, but—and she thought him demented— he must, previous to addressing Harrington in those terms, have money.
‘Money!’ echoed the lady. ‘Money!’
‘Yes, money!’ he iterated doggedly, and she learnt that he had borrowed a sum of Harrington, and the amount of the sum.
It was a disastrous plight, for Mrs. Shorne was penniless.
She cited Ferdinand Laxley as a likely lender.
‘Oh, I’m deep with him already,’ said Harry, in apparent dejection.
‘How dreadful are these everlasting borrowings of yours!’ exclaimed his aunt, unaware of a trifling incongruity in her sentiments. ’You must speak to him without—pay him by-and-by. We must scrape the money together. I will write to your grandfather.’
’Yes; speak to him! How can I when I owe him? I can’t tell a fellow he’s a blackguard when I owe him, and I can’t speak any other way. I ain’t a diplomatist. Dashed if I know what to do!’
‘Juliana,’ murmured his aunt.
‘Can’t ask her, you know.’
Mrs. Shorne combated the one prominent reason for the objection: but there were two. Harry believed that he had exhausted Juliana’s treasury. Reproaching him further for his wastefulness, Mrs. Shorne promised him the money should be got, by hook or by crook, next day.
’And you will speak to this Mr. Harrington to-night, Harry? No allusion to the loan till you return it. Appeal to his sense of honour.’
The dinner-bell assembled the inmates of the house. Evan was not among them. He had gone, as the Countess said aloud, on a diplomatic mission to Fallow field, with Andrew Cogglesby. The truth being that he had finally taken Andrew into his confidence concerning the letter, the annuity, and the bond. Upon which occasion Andrew had burst into a laugh, and said he could lay his hand on the writer of the letter.