'All right,' he said at last.

'What is the meaning of this, Felix? You must tell me. It must be told sooner or later. I know you are unhappy. You had better trust your mother.'

'I am so sick, mother.'

'You will be better up. What were you doing last night? What has come of it all? Where are your things?'

'At the club.--You had better leave me now, and let Sam come up to me.' Sam was the page.

'I will leave you presently; but, Felix, you must tell me about this. What has been done?'

'It hasn't come off.'

'But how has it not come off?'

'I didn't get away. What's the good of asking?'

'You said this morning when you came in, that Mr Melmotte had discovered it.'

'Did I? Then I suppose he has. Oh, mother, I wish I could die. I don't see what's the use of anything. I won't get up to dinner. I'd rather stay here.'

'You must have something to eat, Felix.'

'Sam can bring it me. Do let him get me some brandy and water. I'm so faint and sick with all this that I can hardly bear myself. I can't talk now. If he'll get me a bottle of soda water and some brandy, I'll tell you all about it then.'

'Where is the money, Felix?'

'I paid it for the ticket,' said he, with both his hands up to his head.

Then his mother again left him with the understanding that he was to be allowed to remain in bed till the next morning; but that he was to give her some further explanation when he had been refreshed and invigorated after his own prescription. The boy went out and got him soda water and brandy, and meat was carried up to him, and then he did succeed for a while in finding oblivion from his misery in sleep.

'Is he ill, mamma?' Hetta asked.

'Yes, my dear.'

'Had you not better send for a doctor?'

'No, my dear. He will be better to-morrow.'

'Mamma, I think you would be happier if you would tell me everything.'

'I can't,' said Lady Carbury, bursting out into tears. 'Don't ask. What's the good of asking? It is all misery and wretchedness. There is nothing to tell,--except that I am ruined.'

'Has he done anything, mamma?'

'No. What should he have done? How am I to know what he does? He tells me nothing. Don't talk about it any more. Oh, God,--how much better it would be to be childless!'




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