‘So there are!’ exclaimed Bray, eagerly catching at anything which seemed a justification of himself. ‘And so I told her, both last night and today.’
‘You told her truth,’ said Ralph, ‘and did well to do so; though I must say, at the same time, that if I had a daughter, and my freedom, pleasure, nay, my very health and life, depended on her taking a husband whom I pointed out, I should hope it would not be necessary to advance any other arguments to induce her to consent to my wishes.’
Bray looked at Ralph as if to see whether he spoke in earnest, and having nodded twice or thrice in unqualified assent to what had fallen from him, said:
‘I must go upstairs for a few minutes, to finish dressing. When I come down, I’ll bring Madeline with me. Do you know, I had a very strange dream last night, which I have not remembered till this instant. I dreamt that it was this morning, and you and I had been talking as we have been this minute; that I went upstairs, for the very purpose for which I am going now; and that as I stretched out my hand to take Madeline’s, and lead her down, the floor sunk with me, and after falling from such an indescribable and tremendous height as the imagination scarcely conceives, except in dreams, I alighted in a grave.’
‘And you awoke, and found you were lying on your back, or with your head hanging over the bedside, or suffering some pain from indigestion?’ said Ralph. ‘Pshaw, Mr. Bray! Do as I do (you will have the opportunity, now that a constant round of pleasure and enjoyment opens upon you), and, occupying yourself a little more by day, have no time to think of what you dream by night.’
Ralph followed him, with a steady look, to the door; and, turning to the bridegroom, when they were again alone, said,
‘Mark my words, Gride, you won’t have to pay his annuity very long. You have the devil’s luck in bargains, always. If he is not booked to make the long voyage before many months are past and gone, I wear an orange for a head!’
To this prophecy, so agreeable to his ears, Arthur returned no answer than a cackle of great delight. Ralph, throwing himself into a chair, they both sat waiting in profound silence. Ralph was thinking, with a sneer upon his lips, on the altered manner of Bray that day, and how soon their fellowship in a bad design had lowered his pride and established a familiarity between them, when his attentive ear caught the rustling of a female dress upon the stairs, and the footstep of a man.
‘Wake up,’ he said, stamping his foot impatiently upon the ground, ‘and be something like life, man, will you? They are here. Urge those dry old bones of yours this way. Quick, man, quick!’
Gride shambled forward, and stood, leering and bowing, close by Ralph’s side, when the door opened and there entered in haste—not Bray and his daughter, but Nicholas and his sister Kate.