“Far from it Alive, and like to live, but still sorely crushed and wounded.”
“Oh, God!” cried the old man, in a burst of emotion, “what worldliness is in my heart when I am thankful for such tidings as this! When it is a relief to me to know that my child—my only son—lies maimed and broken on a sick-bed, instead of—instead of—” A gush of tears here broke in upon his utterance, and he wept bitterly.
Grounsell knew too well the relief such paroxysms afford to interfere with their course; while, to avoid any recurrence, even in thought, to the cause, he hurriedly told all that he knew of George's intended meeting with the Frenchman, and his own share in disturbing the rendezvous.
Sir Stafford never spoke during this recital. The terrible shock seemed to have left its stunning influence on his faculties, and he appeared scarcely able to take in with clearness the details into which the other entered.
“She's gone to Como, then,” were the first words he uttered,——“to this villa the Prince has lent her?”
“So I understand; and, from what Proctor says, the Russian is going to marry the Dalton girl.”
“Miss Dalton is along with Lady Hester?”
“To be sure; they travel together, and George was to have followed them.”
“Even scandal, Grounsell, can make nothing of this. What say you, man?”
“You may defy it on that score, Stafford. But let us talk of what is more imminent,——of George.”