hatred at his master as he turned away. For Gurdon
knew the justice of the decree: he had been drinking again. He had
fought with the temptation, but the fine old wines, constantly to his
hand, had been too much for him; and he had again succumbed, so that, as
he stood there that moment beneath one of the brilliant chandeliers, in
the midst of wealth and splendour, he saw himself beggared and
wretched--a poor, out-of-place servant, whom no one would employ on
account of his potent vice.

But a feeling of rage and hatred filled his breast the next instant, as
he turned to single out his master; but he had disappeared, and with
lowering brow the butler left the room to attend to some call.

Sir Murray Gernon had entered the blue-room, one of the handsome suite
of drawing-rooms at the Castle, where he came upon a knot of his male
friends, amongst whom stood Mr Elstree. He would have avoided them,
but for some earnest mention of Norton's name, that was made in a low
tone, and in spite of himself he said hastily:

"What's that about Captain Norton?"

"Ruined, I fear," said Mr Elstree. "Those mines have collapsed--
perfect crash--heavy calls on the shareholders, I'm told. We were
remarking how calmly the poor fellow takes it. Poor Ada cannot know,
for she is laughing happily with my wife."

"These things are better kept from the ladies, I think," said a friend.
"I'm sorry for them, though."

"Unworldly man!"--"foolish speculation!"--"perfect madness!" were
amongst the remarks Sir Murray then heard made, when he turned to gaze
at his stricken guest, who, apparently quite calm and untroubled by a
care, had risen from his seat and crossed to where Lady Gernon was
standing. A minute after, she had left Mrs Norton with her mother,
placed her arm in Captain Norton's, and with him crossed towards the
conservatory, where, amidst the golden-fruited oranges, the
heavily-scented exotics, and the soft light diffused from
flower-encircled and shaded lamp, a few of the guests were seated, or
wandering in what seemed to be a fragment of some tropic land.

It was hard work for Sir Murray to preserve his calm and smiling aspect
amidst his guests when such thoughts as troubled him were struggling in
his breast. But he was determined to show no anger, and, with the
intention of walking quietly into the conservatory, he passed through
the drawing-room, where Gurdon was handing tea to the party conversing
at one of the tables.