"But how in health?"
"He was thin and haggard."
"Was he pale?"
"No; flushed and red. He had not shaved himself for days; nor, as I believe, had he been out of his room since he came up to London. I fancy that he will not live long."
"Poor fellow;—unhappy man! I was very wrong to marry him, Phineas."
"I have never said so;—nor, indeed, thought so."
"But I have thought so; and I say it also,—to you. I owe him any reparation that I can make him; but I could not have lived with him. I had no idea, before, that the nature of two human beings could be so unlike. I so often remember what you told me of him,—here; in this house, when I first brought you together. Alas, how sad it has been!"
"Sad, indeed."
"But can this be true that you tell me of yourself?
"It is quite true. I could not say so before your father, but it is Mr. Bonteen's doing. There is no remedy. I am sure of that. I am only afraid that people are interfering for me in a manner that will be as disagreeable to me as it will be useless."