CHAPTER XX. ON THE DOOR-STEPS AT NIGHT It was late at night when Sewell arrived at the Priory. He had had another disastrous night of play, and had scattered his “acknowledgments” for various sums on every side. Indeed, he had not the vaguest idea of how much he had lost. Disputes and hot discussions, too, almost verging on personal quarrels, dashed with all their irritating influences the gloom of his bad luck; and he felt, as he arose to go home, that he had not even that sorry consolation of the unfortunate gambler,--the pitying sympathy of the looker-on. Over and over, as he went, he asked himself what Fate could possibly intend by this persistent persecution of him? Other fellows had their “innings” now and then. Their fortune came checkered with its bright and dark days. He never emerged, not even passingly, from his ill-luck. “I suppose,” muttered he, “the whole is meant to tempt me--but to what? I need very little temptation if the bait be only money. Let me but see gold enough, and my resistance will not be very formidable. I 'll not risk my neck; short of that I 'm ready for anything.” Thus thinking, he plodded onward through the dark night, vaguely wishing at times that no morning was ever to break, and that existence might prolong itself out to one long dark autumn night, silent and starless. As he reached the hall-door, he found his wife seated on the steps as on a former night. It had become a favorite spot with her to taste the cool refreshing night-air, and rally her from the feverish closeness of the sick-room. “How is he? Is it over yet?” cried he, as he came up. “He is better; he slept calmly for some hours, and woke much refreshed.” “I could have sworn it!” burst he in, vehemently. “It is the one way Fate could have rescued me, and it is denied me. I believe there is a curse on me! Eh--what?” “I did n't speak,” said she, meekly. “You muttered, though. I heard you mumble something below your breath, as if you agreed with what I said. Say it out, Madam, if you think it.” She heaved a weary sigh, but said nothing. “Has Beattie been here?” asked he, hastily. “Yes; he stayed for above an hour, but was obliged to go at last to visit another patient. He brought Dr. Lendrick out with him; he arrived this evening.” “Lendrick! Do you mean the man from the Cape?” “Yes.” “That completes it!” burst he, as he flung his arms wildly up. “I was just wondering what other malignant piece of spite Fortune could play me, and there it is! Had you any talk with this man?” “Yes; he remained with me all the time Dr. Beattie was upstairs.” “And what was his tone? Has he come back to turn us out?--that of course he has--but does he avow it?” “He shows no such intentions. He asked whether you held much to the Nest, if it was a place that you liked, or if you could relinquish it without any regret?” “Why so?” “Because Sir Brook Fossbrooke has just purchased it.”