“You don’t understand the man, Comyn,” said I; “he isn’t that kind, I tell you.  What he has done for me is out of friendship, as he says, and he wouldn’t touch a farthing save what I owe him.”

“Cursed if he isn’t a rum sea-captain,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders; “cursed if I ever ran foul of one yet who would refuse a couple of hundred and call quits.  What’s he to do?  Is he to live like a Lord of the Treasury upon a master’s savings?”

“Jack,” said I, soberly, resolved not to be angry, “I would willingly be cast back in Castle Yard to-night rather than desert him, who might have deserted me twenty times to his advantage.  Mr. Carvel has not wealth enough, nor I gratitude enough, to reward him.  But if our family can make his fortune, it shall be made.  And I am determined to go with him to America by the first packet I can secure.”

He clutched my arm with an earnestness to startle me.

“You must not leave England now,” he said.

“And why?”

“Because she will marry Chartersea if you do.  And take my oath upon it, you alone can save her from that.”

“Nonsense!” I exclaimed, but my breath caught sharply.

“Listen, Richard.  Mr. Manners’s manoeuvres are the talk of the town, and the beast of a duke is forever wining and dining in Arlington Street.  At first people ridiculed, now they are giving credit.  It is said,” he whispered fearfully, “it is said that his Grace has got Mr. Manners in his power,—­some question of honour, you understand, which will ruin him,—­and that even now the duke is in a position to force the marriage.”

He leaned forward and searched me with his keen gray eyes, as tho’ watching the effect of the intelligence upon me.  I was, indeed, stunned.

“Now, had she refused me fifty times instead of only twice,” my Lord continued, “I could not wish her such a fate as that vicious scoundrel.  And since she will not have me, I would rather it were you than any man alive.  For she loves you, Richard, as surely as the world is turning.”

“Oh, no!” I replied passionately; “you are deceived by the old liking she has always had for me since we were children together.”  I was deeply touched by his friendship.  “But tell me how that could affect this marriage with Chartersea.  I believe her pride capable of any sacrifice for the family honour.”

He made a gesture of impatience that knocked over a candlestick.

“There, curse you, there you are again!” he said, “showing how little you know of women and of their pride.  If she were sure that you loved her, she would never marry Chartersea or any one else.  She has had near the whole of London at her feet, and toyed with it.  Now she has been amusing herself with Charles Fox, but I vow she cares for none of them.  Titles, fame, estates, will not move her.”

“If she were sure that I loved her!” I repeated, dazed by what he was saying.  “How you are talking, Comyn!”