“No; he is to join on Monday. I got a hurried note from him this morning, dated Holyhead. You said you had met him?”
“Yes, at the Cape; he used to come and dine with us there occasionally.”
“Did you like him?”
“In a way. Yes, I think he was a nice fellow,—that is, he might be made a nice fellow, but it was always a question into what hands he fell; he was at the same time pliant and obstinate. He would always imitate,—he would never lead. So he seemed to me; but, to tell you the truth, I left him a good deal to the women; he was too young and too fresh for a man like myself.”
“You are rather hard on him,” said Cave, laughing; “but you are partly right. He has, however, fine qualities,—he is generous and trustful to any extent.”
“Indeed!” said Sewell, carelessly, as he bit off the end of a cigar.
“Nothing would make him swerve from his word; and if placed in a difficulty where a friend was involved, his own interests would be the last he 'd think of.”
“Very fine, all that. Are you drinking claret?—if so, finish that decanter, and let's have a fresh bottle.”
Cave declined to take more wine, and he arose, with the rest, to repair to the drawing-room for coffee.
It was not very usual for Sewell to approach his wife or notice her in society; now, however, he drew a chair near her as she sat at the fire, and in a low whisper said, “I have some pleasant news for you.”