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As soon as Lancelot could leave the Priory, he hastened home to find Tregarva. The keeper had packed up all his small possessions and brought them down to Lower Whitford, through which the London coach passed. He was determined to go to London and seek his fortune.
To the outward eye at least Miss Whitford looked a woman of the world, sheathed in a plate armor of conventionality. As soon as his eyes fell on her Clay knew that this pale, slim girl in the close-fitting gown was a stranger to him. Her eyes, star-bright and burning like live coals, warned him that the friend whose youth had run out so eagerly to meet his was hidden deep in her to-day.
Elliott moved away among the crowd of guests. "I am really sorry for Mrs. Whitford," said a lady with whom he soon became engaged in conversation. "Why so?" asked the clergyman, betraying surprise. "What's the matter? No family trouble, I hope?" "Very serious trouble I should call it were it my own," returned the lady. "I am pained to hear you speak so. What has occurred?"
"Oh, pray! It will be a real favour! Good-morning " "There," said Flora, as the sisters turned homewards, "Cherry is not going to be turned out just yet!" "How could you, Flora? Now they will have that man from Whitford, and you said not a word against it!" "What was the use of adding to the hubbub? A little opposition would make them determined on having him.
"I am sure he is very kind to you. I dare say you think Mr. Whitford rather severe. You should remember he has to teach you, so that you may pass for the navy. You must not dislike him because he makes you work. Supposing you had blown yourself up to-day! You would have thought it better to have been working with Mr. Whitford." "Sir Willoughby says, when he's married, you won't let me hide." "Ah!
The valet passed into what was evidently a bedroom and closed the door behind him. There was a faint murmur of voices. "I'm going in now," Beatrice announced abruptly to her father. She moved forward quickly, before Whitford could stop her, whipped open the door, and stepped into the room. Her father followed her reluctantly. Clarendon, in a frogged dressing-gown, lay propped up by pillows.
It is wrong to pet a big boy like you. Does not he what you call tip you, Crossjay?" "Generally half-crown pieces. I've had a crown-piece. I've had sovereigns." "And for that you do as he bids you? And he indulges you because you . . . Well, but though Mr. Whitford does not give you money, he gives you his time, he tries to get you into the navy." "He pays for me." "What do you say?" "My keep.
Whitford knew there was danger, and that of the gravest character. Two years before, her son had come home from college, where he had graduated with all the honors her heart could desire, a pure, high-toned young man, possessing talents of no common order.
He glanced at her iniquity for a justification of it, without any desire to do her a permanent hurt: he was highly civilized: but with a strong intention to give her all the benefit of a scandal, supposing a scandal, or ordinary tattle. "And so he handed her to his cousin and secretary, Vernon Whitford, who opened his mouth and shut his eyes." You hear the world?
"You will find him at the lower end of the room, just in the corner," said the man. Mrs. Whitford made her way to the lower end of the room. Ellis was sitting in a chair, stupid and maudlin, and two or three thoughtless girls were around his chair laughing at his drunken efforts to be witty. The shocked mother did not speak to him, but shrunk away and went gliding from the room.
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