ible fellow be kind and
patient too? Knowing his own sex, Errington doubted it. He had a certain
amount of the generosity which belongs to strength. To children, and the
kind of pretty, undecided women who rank as children, he was wonderfully
considerate. But it was quite possible that were he married to a
sensible, companionable wife he might be exacting.

At present it seemed highly improbable that he should ever reach a
position which would enable him to commit matrimony. Thirty-four is
rather an advanced age at which to begin life afresh.

The prospect of bachelorhood, however, by no means dismayed him. Indeed
it was more a sense of his social duties as a man of fortune and a
future senator that had impelled him to seek a wife, not an irresistible
desire for the companionship of a ministering spirit. He was truly
thankful that his marriage had bean delayed, and that he was not
hampered by any sense of duty toward a wife in his design of sacrificing
his all to save his credit.

After the first few days of stunning surprise, Errington set vigorously
to work to clear the wreck. Garston was advertised; his stud, his
furniture--everything--put up for sale, and his own days divided between
his solicitor and his stock-broker. His first step was to explain
matters to his intended father-in-law, who, being an impulsive,
self-indulgent man, swore a good deal about the ill-luck of all
concerned, but at once declared the engagement must be at an end.

As Lady Alice was still in Switzerland with her brother and his wife, it
was considered wise to spare her the pain of an interview. Lord Melford
explained matters to his daughter in an extremely outspoken letter,
enclosing one from Errington, in which, with much good feeling, he bade
her a kindly farewell. To this she replied promptly, and a week saw the
extinction of the whole affair. Errington could not help smiling at this
"rapid act." It was then about three weeks after the blow had fallen--a
warm glowing June morning. Errington's man of business had just left
him, and he had returned to his writing-table, which was strewn, or
rather covered, with papers (nothing Errington ever handled was
"strewn"), and continued his task of making out a list of his
private liabilities, which were comparatively light, when his
valet--not yet discharged, though already warned to look for another
master--approached, with his usually impassive countenance, and
presented a small note.

Erri