“It is a noble feeling, madam,” said he, haughtily.
“It is a great misfortune to its possessor, sir.”
“Can we deem that misfortune, Miss Barrington, which enlarges the charity of our natures, and teaches us to be slow to think ill?”
Not paying the slightest attention to his question, she said,—
“My brother went in search of you, sir, to place in your hands some very urgent letters from the Horse Guards, and which a special messenger brought here this morning.”
“Truly kind of him. They relate, I have no doubt, to my Indian appointment. They told me I should have news by to-day or to-morrow.”
“He received a letter also for himself, sir, which he desired to show you.”
“About his lawsuit, of course? It is alike a pleasure and a duty to me to serve him in that affair.”
“It more nearly concerns yourself, sir,” said she, in the same cold, stern tone; “though it has certainly its bearing on the case you speak of.”
“More nearly concerns myself!” said he, repeating her words slowly. “I am about the worst guesser of a riddle in the world, Miss Barrington. Would you kindly relieve my curiosity? Is this letter a continuation of those cowardly attacks which, in the want of a worthier theme, the Press have amused themselves by making upon me? Is it possible that some enemy has had the malice to attack me through my friends?”