Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 40

"Len, I'm an idiot. I always was. It's a good job idiocy isn't catching or you'd have caught it of me long ago. I made a confounded idiot of myself last night. It was all Dalrymple and Hetley's fault, and I wish they'd knock champagne off the club wine list. Did I take too much, Len?"

"What do you think?" said Leonard, grimly.

"I'm afraid I did. For the first time in my life, or nearly--but I didn't touch a card, Len."

"I knew you wouldn't do that."

"No, a promise is a promise with me," said Jack. "And I didn't drink much, Len, 'pon my honor; but I was upset, and when a man is upset he----"

"He generally tries to get run over," said Leonard, with a smile.

Jack stared, then he laughed.

"By George! yes. I remember!"

"But always does not get the luck to be rescued by a beautiful young lady--who is an heiress--and who, instead of giving him in charge for blocking the queen's highway, brings him home in her brougham."

"It was a kind thing to do, certainly," said Jack, with a yawn.

"Kind is a mild way of putting it," remarked Leonard.

"It was more than I deserved," said Jack; "much more, and she's a brick."

"The man who calls Lady Isabel Earlsley a brick should be a bold man."

At last Jack looked up, and pressing his chair back, said:

"And now, old man, let's hold a council of war. Subject to be considered: the future of a young man who has been cut off with a shilling--by George! the poor old fellow didn't even leave me that--who knows no trade, who cannot dig, and to beg is ashamed, and who is penniless."

"Quite penniless, Jack?" asked Leonard.

Jack rose, and sauntering to a drawer, pulled forth an old tobacco pouch, and pouring the contents on to the table proceeded to count the small--very small--heap of coin.

"Twenty-one pounds six-and-fourpence farthing--no; it's a bra.s.s b.u.t.ton--and a bra.s.s b.u.t.ton."

"Can't carry on this way long with that small amount of ammunition, Jack."

"Just so, old Solomon. Well, what's to be done?"

"You might enlist."

"Get shot, and break your heart. No, I'm too fond of you, Len. Go on; anything else?"

"Upon my word, you can't do anything."

"Nary thing," admitted Jack, with frank candor.

"What do men--well-born and high-bred men like you----"

"What will you take to drink?" said Jack, bowing low.

"Who have no money, and no brains----"

Jack bowed again, and pitched the sugar tongs at him.

"What do they do? They generally marry an heiress, Jack."

"I shall never marry."

"I've heard that remark before. The last it was from a man who married a fortnight afterward."

"I'm not going to marry in a fortnight. Go ahead."

"I've done," said Leonard with a shrug.

"Solomon is dried up," said Jack. "You don't keep a large stock of wisdom on hand, old man."

"I've given you the best I've got, and good advice too, with a foundation to go upon. Your heiress is ready to your hand."

"What do you mean?" said Jack.

Leonard was about to reply, when the housekeeper entered and brought him a card. He looked at it; it bore Lady Isabel Earlsley's name, and on the back was written:

"To inquire whether Mr. Newcombe was hurt last night?"

Leonard pitched it across the table, as an answer to Jack's question.

Jack read the card and flushed hotly, then threw it down again.

Leonard took up a piece of paper, and rapidly wrote:

"Mr. Newcombe's compliments, and he was not in any way injured by last night's accident, which he deeply regrets as having caused Lady Earlsley so much trouble," and gave it to the housekeeper.

"What have you written?" asked Jack sulkily.

"What you are too much of a bear to write," said Leonard, with a smile--"an answer and an apology. Jack, you are a favorite of fortune.

Half the men in London would give the forefinger of their right hand to get such a message from Lady Bell. I know her----"

"So do I," broke in Jack, roughly; "I heard all about her at the club last night. Hetley and Dalrymple bored me to death about her. She's a great heiress and a beauty, and all the rest of it. I know, and I don't want to hear any more."

Jack went up to Len and laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Forgive me, old fellow; but I--my heart is full. Only one woman in the world has any interest for me, and she has gone--up to the sky again, I suppose. What do I care for Lady Bell, or Lady anyone else? I tell you I laid awake half the night thinking of that beautiful face, and dreamed of her eyes the rest of the night; and I'd give all the world if I had it, to find her. And much good it would do me if I succeeded? I couldn't ask her to share twenty-one pounds six and a bra.s.s b.u.t.ton!"

"Forgive _me_, Jack," said Leonard, quietly. "I know what you mean. I'm in love myself. But--but at any rate you can't treat Lady Bell rudely.

You must call and thank her."

"Confound her!" said Jack, and hurried out of the room.