"I don't mean you, of course," he said; "you have been always only too much my friend. I am speaking of the world; you know, quite well, if this unlucky thing takes wind, and my uncle's conduct towards me is the very thing to set people talking and inquiring, I may as well take off my hat to you all, drink your healths in a glass of prussic acid, and try how a trip to some other world agrees with me." "You are speaking, of course, sir, in jest," said Mr. Blount, with some disgust in his grave countenance; "but I may mention that the unfortunate occurrence is known but to your uncle and to me, and to no other person on earth. You bear the name of Marston--you'll excuse me for reminding you, sir--and upon that point he is sensitive and imperious. He considered, sir, that your bearing that name, if I may so say, without being supposed guilty of a rudeness, would slur it; and, therefore, you'll change it, as arranged, on embarking at Southampton. It would be highly inexpedient to annoy your uncle by any inadvertence upon this point. Your contemplating suicide would be--you will pardon the phrase--cowardly and impious. Not, indeed, if I may so say consistently with the rules of politeness," he added, thoughtfully, "that your sudden removal would involve any loss to anybody, except, possibly, some few Jews, and people of that kind." "Certainly--of course. You need not insist upon that. I feel my degradation, I hope, sufficiently. It is not his fault, at least, if I don't." "And, from myself, I suggest that he will be incensed, if he learns that you are accepting the hospitality of Mr. Ware's house. I think, sir, that men of the world, especially gentlemen, will regard it, if the phrase be not discourteous, in the light of a shabby act." "Shabby, sir! what do you mean by shabby?" said Mr. Marston, flaming up. "I mean, sir--you'll excuse me--paltry; don't you see?--or mean. His feelings would be strongly excited by your partaking of Mr. Ware's hospitality." "Hospitality! Shelter, you mean; slates, walls--little more than they give a beast in a pound! Why, I don't owe them a crust, or a cup of tea. I get everything from the hotel there, at Cardyllion; and Mr. Ware is a thousand miles away!" "I speak of it simply as a question of expediency, sir. He will be inflamed against you, if he hears you have, in ever so small a matter, placed yourself under any obligation to Mr. Ware." "But he need not hear of it; why should you mention it?" "I cannot practise reserve with a man who treats me with unlimited confidence," he answered, gently. "Why should you not go to the hotel?" "I have no money." "But you get everything you want there on credit?"