gaged; in so far, they followed the practice of all
gentlemen: but when they played, they played fair; and when they lost,
they paid.

Now Madame Bernstein was loth to tell her Virginian nephew all she knew
to his family's discredit; she was even touched by my lord's forbearance
in regard to Harry on his first arrival in Europe; and pleased with his
lordship's compliance with her wishes in this particular. But in the
conversation which she had with her nephew Castlewood regarding Maria's
designs on Harry, he had spoken his mind out with his usual cynicism,
voted himself a fool for having spared a lad whom no sparing would
eventually keep from ruin; pointed out Mr. Harry's undeniable
extravagances and spendthrift associates, his nights at faro and hazard,
and his rides to Newmarket, and asked why he alone should keep his hands
from the young fellow? In vain Madame Bernstein pleaded that Harry was
poor. Bah! he was heir to a principality which ought to have been his,
Castlewood's, and might have set up their ruined family. (Indeed Madame
Bernstein thought Mr. Warrington's Virginian property much greater than
it was.) Were there not money-lenders in the town who would give him
money on postobits in plenty? Castlewood knew as much to his cost: he
had applied to them in his father's lifetime, and the cursed crew
had eaten up two-thirds of his miserable income. He spoke with such
desperate candour and ill-humour, that Madame Bernstein began to be
alarmed for her favourite, and determined to caution him at the first
opportunity.

That evening she began to pen a billet to Mr. Warrington: but all her
life long she was slow with her pen, and disliked using it. "I never
knew any good come of writing more than bon jour or business," she used
to say. "What is the use of writing ill, when there are so many clever
people who can do it well? and even then it were best left alone." So
she sent one of her men to Mr. Harry's lodgings, bidding him come and
drink a dish of tea with her next day, when she proposed to warn him.

But the next morning she was indisposed, and could not receive Mr. Harry
when he came: and she kept her chamber for a couple of days, and the
next day there was a great engagement, and the next day Mr. Harry was
off on some expedition of his own. In the whirl of London life, what man
sees his neighbour, what brother his sister, what schoolfellow his old
friend? Ever so many days passed before Mr. Warrington and his