Bred in the Bone by James Payn
page 65 of 506 (12%)
page 65 of 506 (12%)
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The young fellow repaid his loan that night, besides putting half a
dozen sovereigns into his own pocket; and there was other fruit from that investment. Carew was delighted with his son's skill, though his wit was somewhat wasted on him. "Why the deuce did you not play in the first game?" said he, when the party broke up to adjourn to the hazard-table. "I suppose it was your confounded cunning" (and here his face grew dark, as though with some recollection of the past); "you wanted to see how they played before you pitted yourself against them--did you? How like, how like!" "I had no money, Sir, until Parson Whymper lent me some." "Oh, that was it--was it?" said the Squire. "Well, well, that was not your fault, lad, nor shall it be mine--here, catch," and out of his breeches-pocket he took a roll of crumpled notes and flung them at him; then suddenly turned upon his heels, with what sounded like a muttered execration at his own folly. Yorke did not risk this unexpected treasure on the chances of the dice, but retired to his own room. It was a dainty chamber, as we have said, and offered in its appointments a curious contrast to his late sleeping-room in the keeper's lodge. He opened the door of communication to which the Squire had referred, and found himself in a sort of boudoir, in which, as in his own room, a good fire was burning. By the lover of art-furniture, this latter apartment would have been pronounced a perfect gem. Here also every article was of ebony, and flashed back the blaze from the red coals like dusky mirrors. Yorke lit the candles--huge waxen ones, such as the pious soul in peril sees in his mind's eye, and promises to his saint--and looked around him with |
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