ywhere? All
the world would know that Marie Melmotte had attempted to run off with
him, and that at the last moment he had failed her. What lie could he
invent to cover his disgrace? And his clothes! All his things were at
the club;--or he thought that they were, not being quite certain whether
he had not made some attempt to carry them off to the Railway Station.
He had heard of suicide. If ever it could be well that a man should
cut his own throat, surely the time had come for him now. But as this
idea presented itself to him he simply gathered the clothes around him
and tried to sleep. The death of Cato would hardly have for him
persuasive charms.

Between five and six his mother again came up to him, and when he
appeared to sleep, stood with her hand upon his shoulder. There must
be some end to this. He must at any rate be fed. She, wretched woman,
had been sitting all day,--thinking of it. As regarded her son himself;
his condition told his story with sufficient accuracy. What might be
the fate of the girl she could not stop to inquire. She had not heard
all the details of the proposed scheme; but she had known that Felix
had proposed to be at Liverpool on the Wednesday night, and to start
on Thursday for New York with the young lady; and with the view of
aiding him in his object she had helped him with money. She had bought
clothes for him, and had been busy with Hetta for two days preparing
for his long journey,--having told some lie to her own daughter as to
the cause of her brother's intended journey. He had not gone, but had
come, drunk and degraded, back to the house. She had searched his
pockets with less scruple than she had ever before felt, and had found
his ticket for the vessel and the few sovereigns which were left to
him. About him she could read the riddle plainly. He had stayed at his
club till he was drunk, and had gambled away all his money. When she
had first seen him she had asked herself what further lie she should
now tell to her daughter. At breakfast there was instant need for some
story. 'Mary says that Felix came back this morning, and that he has
not gone at all,' Hetta exclaimed. The poor woman could not bring
herself to expose the vices of the son to her daughter. She could not
say that he had stumbled into the house drunk at six o'clock. Hetta no
doubt had her own suspicions. 'Yes; he has come back,' said Lady
Carbury, broken-hearted by her troubles. 'It was some plan about the
Mexica