The pool of St Branok

I did gather that Justin won very often. Gervaise would shrug his shoulders.

"All have their ups and downs," he said.

"You seem to have more downs than ups with Justin," I commented.

"It's the way of things. It will change. It always does. The exciting thing about luck is that it is unpredictable. That's why they call it Lady Luck. It's like women."

"Do you find me unpredictable?"

He put his arms round me. "Of course not. Didn't I tell you, you were unique. That's why I love you."

I could often forget my misgivings when I was with Gervaise; he had a convincing way of making light of difficulties.

I had thought at first that Justin and Gervaise were very much alike. They were in some ways, of course; their style of life; their affability towards everyone; their love of gambling. Neither of them worked. I realized I had been used to people's working around me. There had always been problems on the Cador estates and my father had frequently been busy; Mr. Pencarron was deeply concerned with the mine; our friends in the two Poldoreys were lawyers or doctors; Uncle Peter was immersed in his business; Matthew was at the House; Peterkin and Frances with their Mission. But Gervaise and Justin were different in this.

Justin was considering, he said. He was going to do something. He had arrived in this country from America not long ago. He had been involved with the production of cotton over there. He was, as he said, feeling his way. He wanted to do something but he was not yet sure what. Gervaise had no such pretensions. He was quite content with life as it was. He had the belief that one day he would make such a killing at the card tables that his fortune would be made.

I did try to reason with him sometimes. I said: "If you made a fortune at the card table you would immediately risk it again."

"Yes. And win an even greater fortune."

I said: "Do you forget what happened to your ancestor?"

"I was never allowed to. It was preached as Holy Writ in our household."

"Well then, perhaps it is as well to keep it in mind."

He always laughed at me when I was serious. Sometimes I found it faintly irritating; but he could always charm me out of that mood.

We were frequent visitors at the house in the square. Both Aunt Amaryllis and Helena took a motherly interest in us—Amaryllis, I suppose, because that was her way with all the young members of the family and Helena because she had "brought us out."

I enjoyed these dinner parties. Conversation was always lively, particularly when Uncle Peter was present. He and his daughter-in-law Frances often sparred, but I think he admired her as he did all people who lived energetically.

Politics were often the subject of the discourse and I wished that Matthew and Uncle Peter would differ now and then; but Matthew always agreed with Uncle Peter's views.

At this time he was deploring the continued premiership of Palmerston.

"Surely it's time he retired," said Uncle Peter. "If he did, I think we should see a return of the party and office for you."

Matthew said he would never retire. "He'll die in harness. That is the old man's way. Sometimes he looks as if he is half asleep or wholly so. He sits there on the bench with his eyes half closed ... a real dandy in his frock coat and light gray trousers, wearing his gloves. He always wears his gloves. You're certain he hasn't heard a word of the debate. Then he'll get to his feet ... You know that way of his, poking fun at things ... getting them laughing ... and then he'll somehow get the vote going the way he wants it."

"A remarkable man," said Uncle Peter. "He should have been with us."

"That's true," agreed Matthew. "Who else could overcome all that tittle-tattle about his love affairs? Who would believe that a Prime Minister could be nicknamed Cupid?"

I loved to hear those little anecdotes of people whose names I knew so well. So those dinner parties were always a delight. Gervaise enjoyed them too. Sometimes I felt that Uncle Peter saw too much. I believe he knew about Gervaise's gambling for one day he said to me: "You want to keep a tight hand on that husband of yours. He's too fond of the tables."

Uncle Peter should know. He had made his fortune out of those clubs where gambling—among other diversions—was in full swing.

He was very watchful of Justin, and I was sure that Justin puzzled him more than Gervaise did.

There came one evening at the house in the square which was to change our lives, although I did not know it then.

They had been discussing Palmerston's increasing age again and expressing some anxiety for the health of Lord Derby who must surely defeat him at the next election; then they went on to the antics of Benjamin Disraeli whose sights were set on the highest post of all.

Then Uncle Peter said suddenly: "By the way, I have heard from Benedict."