“And so you've given your own head a blow to punish your tooth! well done,” exclaimed another voice at the door.
“Peters, is that you?”
“What's to be done now?”
“How shall we get a light?”
“If you will give me the candle I will get one,” said Louis.
Accordingly, the extinguished candle was delivered into his hands, and he felt his way to the kitchen door, where he obtained a light, and then, picking up the fallen candle, tried to arrange its shattered form, and replace it. While thus employed, Ferrers joined him, and offered his aid, and on Louis' accepting it, said in a low tone,—
“Louis, I am a wretch, I am so very miserable. I can't think how you can bear so much from one who has never done you any thing but harm.”
Louis raised his head from his work in astonishment, and saw that Ferrers looked as he said, very miserable, and was deadly pale.
“I do so despise myself—to see you bearing all so sweetly, Louis. I should have been different, perhaps, if I had known you before—I love, I admire you, as much as I hate myself.”
“Are you coming with the candle there?” cried a voice from above: “Louis Mortimer and William Ferrers in deep confabulation—wonders will never cease.”