three hundred pounds, charged upon the estate of a distant relative; his
profession (the bar) could not be remunerative for years, and other
prospects he had none. The misery of his situation lay in the fact that
he was desperately in love with the daughter of people who looked upon
him as little better than a pauper. The girl had pledged herself to him,
but would not marry without her parents' consent, of which there was no
hope till he had at least trebled his means. His choice of a profession
was absurd, dictated merely by social opinion; he should have been
working hard in a commercial office, or at some open-air pursuit.
Naturally he turned again to the thought of gambling, this time the
great legalised game of hazard, wherein he was as little likely to
prosper as among the blacklegs of Brussels. Rolfe liked him for his
ingenuousness, and for the vein of poetry in his nature. The love affair
still went on, but Morphew seldom alluded to it, and his seasoned friend
thought of it as a youthful ailment which would pass and be forgotten.

'I'm convinced,' said the young man presently, 'that any one who really
gives his mind to it can speculate with moderate success. Look at the
big men -- the brokers and the company promoters, and so on; I've met
some of them, and there's nothing in them -- nothing! Now, there's
Bennet Frothingham. You know him, I think?'

Rolfe nodded.

'Well, what do you think of him? Isn't he a very ordinary fellow? How
has he got such a position? I'm told he began just in a small way -- by
chance. No doubt _he_ found it so easy to make money he was surprised at
his success. Tripcony has told me a lot about him. Why, the "Britannia"
brings him fifteen thousand a year; and he must be in a score of other
things.'