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Updated: June 8, 2025
Cymon, disappointed, had returned to London; Lady Cecilia had seen Lord Beltravers, and heard the news from him. There could be no doubt of the truth of the intelligence, and scarcely did Helen herself rejoice in it with more sincerity than did Miss Clarendon, and Helen loved her for her candour as well as for her sympathy. Time passed on; week after week rolled away.
"I know nothing of the son," pursued Lady Davenant. "I do," said Beauclerc, "he is my friend." "I thought he had been a very distressed man, that young Beltravers," said the aid-de-camp. "And if he were, that would not prevent my being his friend, sir," said Beauclerc. "Of course," said the aid-de-camp, "I only asked."
Lord Beltravers, as it was now clear, never had the slightest intention of living in that house of his ancestors on which Beauclerc had lavished his thousands, ay, and tens of thousands: but while he was repairing, and embellishing, and furnishing Old Forest, fit for an English aristocrat of the first water, the Lord Beltravers at the gaming-table, pledged it, and lost it, and sold it; and it went to the hammer.
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