He has a wonderful power of self-restraint when he
cares to exert it; will play six or seven hours every night for three
weeks at a stretch, and then not touch a card for six months. Poor old
John," said Gilbert Fenton, with a half-regretful sigh; "under happy
circumstances, he might be such a good man."
"But I fear he is a dangerous friend for you, Gilbert," exclaimed Marian,
horrified by this glimpse of bachelor life.
"No, darling, I have never shared his wilder pleasures. There are a few
chosen spirits with whom he consorts at such times. I believe this Sir
David Forster is one of them."
"Sir David has the reputation of leading rather a wild life in London,"
said the Captain, "and of bringing a dissipated set down here every
autumn. Things have not gone well with him. His wife, who was a very
beautiful girl, and whom he passionately loved, was killed by a fall from
her horse a few months after the birth of her first child. The child died
too, and the double loss ruined Sir David. He used to spend the greater
part of his life at Heatherly, and was a general favourite among the
county people; but since that time he has avoided the place, except
during the shooting season. He has a hunting-box in the shires, and is a
regular daredevil over a big country they tell me."
They had reached the little gate opening from the wood into the park by
this time.
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