“In love! in fiddlestick. Why, he has not seen the girl this year and half; he scarcely knows her. I doubt greatly if she cares a straw for him; and for a caprice--a mere caprice--to surrender his right to a fine fortune and a good position is absolute idiocy; but I tell you more, Cave, though worse--far worse.” Here his voice grew harsh and grating, as he continued: “When I and other men like me played with Trafford, we betted with the man who was to inherit Holt. When I asked the fellow to my house, and suffered a certain intimacy--for I never liked him--it was because he represented twelve thousand a year in broad acres. I 'd stand a good deal from a man like that, that I 'd soon pull another up for,--eh?” The interrogative here puzzled Cave, who certainly was not a concurring party to the sentiment, and yet did not want to make it matter of discussion. “We shall be late,--we've lost our soup already,” said he, moving more briskly forward. “I 'd no more have let that fellow take on him, as he did under my roof, than I 'd sufifer him to kennel his dogs in my dressing-room. You don't know--you can't know--how he behaved.” These words were spoken in passionate warmth, and still there was that in the speaker's manner that showed a want of real earnestness; so it certainly seemed to Cave, who secretly determined to give no encouragement to further disclosures. “There are things,” resumed Sewell, “that a man can't speak on,--at least, he can only speak of them when they become the talk of the town.” “Come along, I want my dinner. I'm not sure I have not a guest, besides, who does not know any of our fellows. I only remembered him this instant. Is n't this Saturday?” “One thing I 'll swear,--he shall pay me every shilling he owes me, or he does not sail with the regiment. I 'll stand no nonsense of renewals; if he has to sell out for it, he shall book up. You have told him, I hope, he has nothing to expect from my forbearance?” “We can talk this all over another time. Come along now,--we 're very late.” “Go on, then, and eat your dinner; leave me to my cigar--I 've no appetite. I 'll drop in when you have dined.” “No, no; you shall come too,--your absence will only make fellows talk; they are talking already.” “Are they? and in what way?” asked he, sternly. “Nothing seriously, of course,” mumbled Cave, for he saw how he had fallen into an indiscretion; “but you must come, and you must be yourself too. It's the only way to meet flying rumors.” “Come along, then,” said Sewell, passing his arm within the other's; and they hurried forward without another word being spoken by either. It was evident that Sewell's appearance caused some surprise. There was a certain awkward significance in the way men looked at him and at each other that implied astonishment at his presence. “I didn't know you were down here,” said the old Major, making an involuntary explanation of his look of wonderment.