"Meantime you shall travel on the Continent and enjoy yourself."
"Thank you," said young Wardlaw, mechanically, and fell into a brown study.
The room now returned to what seemed its natural state. And its silence continued until it was broken from without.
A sharp knocking was heard at the street door, and resounded across the marble hall.
The Wardlaws looked at one another in some little surprise.
"I have invited nobody," said the elder. Some time elapsed, and then a footman made his appearance and brought in a card.
"Mr. Christopher Adams."
Now that Mr. Christopher Adams should call on John Wardlaw, in his private room, at nine o'clock in the evening, seemed to that merchant irregular, presumptuous and monstrous. "Tell him he will find me at my place of business to-morrow, as usual," said he, knitting his brows.
The footman went off with this message; and, soon after, raised voices were heard in the hall, and the episcopal butler entered the room with an injured countenance.
"He says he must see you; he is in great anxiety."