"I did not know," I continued, "I never dreamed, that James had bad associates in the city. I know that his uncle and cousins do not suspect it. It pains me more than I can express. What shall I do? I have no influence over him. He dislikes me, and would take the most brotherly remonstrance as an insult." "I do not wish you, at present, to hint your discovery to him. As for your not suspecting his habits, those habits themselves are recent. I doubt if he had ever ventured a dollar on cards three months ago. He had some gay, even dissolute companions in the city, of whom the worst and most dangerous was Bagley. But he had not joined them in their worst excesses--he was only idle and fond of pleasure--a moth fluttering around the flames. Now he has scorched his wings. He has not spent more than three or four nights as he spent this; and the only money he has lost has been to the person you saw him with to-night. Bagley is one of the vampires who fatten on the characters and purses of young men like James Argyll." "Then ought we not to make some earnest effort to save him before it is too late? Oh, Mr. Burton, you who are wise and experienced--tell me what to do." "Why do you feel so much interest in him? You do not like him." "I could not see the merest stranger go down toward destruction without stretching forth my hand. There is no great friendship between us, it is true; but James is nearly connected with the happiness and reputation of the family I honor most on earth. For its sake, I would make the utmost endeavor." "For the interests of justice, then, it is well that I am not related to the Argylls by the personal ties which affect you. I will tell you one thing--James does not gamble so much from weakness of will to resist temptation, as he does to forget, for a time, under the influence of the fascinating excitement, an anxiety which he carries about with him." "You're a close observer, Mr. Burton. James has, indeed, been deeply troubled lately. I have noticed the change in him--in his appetite, complexion, manners, in a thousand trifles--a change which grows upon him daily. He is gnawed upon by secret doubts--now raised by hopes, now depressed by fears, until he is fitful and uncertain as a light carried in an autumn wind. But I can tell you that he is all wrong in indulging this vain hope, which creates the doubt. I know what it is, and how utterly without foundation. It is weakness, wickedness in him to allow a passion which ought only to ennoble him and teach him self-control, to chase him to such ruin as I saw to-night." "That is _your_ way of viewing the matter, Mr. Redfield. We all see things according to the color of the spectacles we happen to wear. Then you think it is a growing certainty that Miss Argyll, even under her present relief from past vows, will never favor his suit, nor that of any man, which is driving her cousin to these reckless habits?"