“There’s terrible bad news from Courcy,” said the attorney, as soon as the boy was gone.
“Why; what’s the matter?”
“Porlock has married—that woman, you know.”
“Nonsense.”
“He has. The old lady has been obliged to tell me, and she’s nearly broken-hearted about it. But that’s not the worst of it to my mind. All the world knows that Porlock had gone to the mischief. But he is going to bring an action against his father for some arrears of his allowance, and he threatens to have everything out in court, if he doesn’t get his money.”
“But is there money due to him?”
“Yes, there is. A couple of thousand pounds or so. I suppose I shall have to find it. But, upon my honour, I don’t know where it’s to come from; I don’t, indeed. In one way or another, I’ve paid over fourteen hundred pounds for you.”
“Fourteen hundred pounds!”
“Yes, indeed;—what with the insurance and the furniture, and the bill from our house for the settlements. That’s not paid yet, but it’s the same thing. A man doesn’t get married for nothing, I can tell you.”
“But you’ve got security.”
“Oh, yes; I’ve got security. But the thing is the ready money. Our house has advanced so much on the Courcy property, that they don’t like going any further; and therefore it is that I have to do this myself. They’ll all have to go abroad,—that’ll be the end of it. There’s been such a scene between the earl and George. George lost his temper and told the earl that Porlock’s marriage was his fault. It has ended in George with his wife being turned out.”
“He has money of his own.”
“Yes, but he won’t spend it. He’s coming up here, and we shall find him hanging about us. I don’t mean to give him a bed here, and I advise you not to do so either. You’ll not get rid of him if you do.”
“I have the greatest possible dislike to him.”
“Yes; he’s a bad fellow. So is John. Porlock was the best, but he’s gone altogether to ruin. They’ve made a nice mess of it between them; haven’t they?”