In Friendship's Guise by Wm. Murray Graydon


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Page 29

It was twenty minutes to one when Victor Nevill mounted the stairs and
opened his door, surprised to see that the gas was lighted in his rooms.
If he was unpleasantly startled by the sight of his visitor, he masked
his feelings successfully.

"My dear uncle," he cried, "I am delighted to see you!"

"You dog!" exclaimed Sir Lucius, with a beaming countenance. "You
night-bird! Do you know that I have been here since ten o'clock?"

"I am awfully sorry, I assure you, sir. If you had only dropped me a
line or wired. I have been dining with a friend in the suburbs, and the
best train I could catch took me to Portland road."

Possibly Sir Lucius did not believe this explanation. He glanced keenly
at his nephew, noting his flushed face and rumpled shirt-bosom, and a
shadow of displeasure crossed his features.

"I hoped to spend a few quiet hours with you," he said. "I came to town
this evening, and put up at Morley's. I am off to Norway in the morning,
by a steamer that sails from the Thames, and from there I shall probably
go to the Continent. I have been feeling a little run down--livery--and
my physician has advised a complete change of air."

"You are a regular globe-trotter," replied Victor, laughing to hide his
sudden look of relief. "I wish I could induce you to spend the season in
London."

"That's well enough for an idle young dog like yourself--you can't exist
out of London. What are you doing?"

"Nothing in particular. I read a good bit--"

"Yes, trashy novels. Does your income hold out?"

"I manage to get along, with economy."

"Economy? Humph! I have taken the liberty to look about your rooms.
The landlady remembered me and let me in. You have a snug nest--more
luxurious than the last time I was here. It is fit for a Sybarite. Your
brandy is old liquor, and must have cost you a pretty penny. Your cigars
are too good for _me_, sir, and I'll warrant you don't pay less than ten
pounds a hundred for them. As for your clothing, you have enough to
start a shop."

"I must keep up appearances, my dear uncle."

"Yes, I suppose so. I don't blame you for wanting to stand well with
your friends, if you can afford it. Your father and mother spoiled you.
You should have gone to the bar, or into the army or the church.
However, it is too late to talk about that now. But, to be frank with
you, my boy, it has come to my ears that you are leading a fast life."

"It is false!" Victor cried, indignantly.

"I sincerely trust so. I have heard only rumors, and I do not care to
attach any credence to them. But a word of warning--of advice--may not
be out of place. Young men must have their fling, and I think none the
worse of them for it. But you are not young, in your knowledge of the
world. It is six or seven years since you were thrown on the Continent
with a full purse. You have been able to indulge every whim and fancy.
You have had enough of wild oats. Fill your niche in Society and
Clubdom, if you like. Be a butterfly and an ornament, if you feel no
inclination for anything better. But be a gentleman--be honorable. If
you ever forget yourself, and bring a shadow of shame upon the unsullied
names of Chesney or Nevill, by gad, sir, you shall never touch a penny
of my money. I will leave it all to charities, and turn Priory Court
into a hospital. Mark that! If you go wrong, I'll hear of it. I'm good
for twenty years yet, if I'm good for a day."

"You seem to have a very bad opinion of me, Uncle Lucius. I never give
your fortune a thought. As for the honor of the family, it is as dear to
me as it is to you."

"Glad to hear you say it, my boy," replied Sir Lucius, breathlessly. "It
shows spirit. Well, I hope you'll overlook my sharp words. I meant them
for your good. And if you want a check--"

"Thanks, awfully, but I don't need it," Victor interrupted, with a
stroke of inspiration. "My income keeps me going all right. It is only
in trifles that I am extravagant. I have inherited a taste, sir, for
good cigars and old brandy."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 20th Dec 2025, 12:03