“Thank God! thank God!” was Mark’s inward ejaculation. “But if it be no doubt on speculative religion that oppresses my poor friend, what cause can there be for his deep-rooted sadness? Coldstream is happily married; he has good social position, competence, and high reputation; why should he be as one oppressed by a secret grief?”
Again came the painful suspicion, “Can this be melancholy madness?”
CHAPTER X.
THE SCORPION’S STING.
“Where have you been, Thud?” inquired Io, as, a few hours after her return from church, her brother sauntered into the drawing-room, smelling of tobacco, and with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets.
“I’ve had a good chat and smoke with Pogson,” replied Thud, throwing himself on the sofa; “and as talking and tobacco make one dry, we had something to wet our whistles. He’s no water-drinker, like Oscar.”
“I do not think that Pogson is a good companion for you, Thud,” said Io.
“That’s little you know,” was the rude reply. Thud could treat his sister as he liked when her husband was absent.
“What did you talk about?” inquired Io.
“Oh, a lot of things, scientific and other; but Pogson is not scientific. He only laughed at my theory of there being animalcula in fire, as well as in water and air. He said I’d burn my fingers in trying to find them, though it goes to reason that what is found in threeelements is sure to be in the fourth, though philosophers have not yet found them out.”