‘My dear child, but just now you were comparatively happy.’
‘Happy! You cannot mean to insult me. Happy! Oh, is there in this world a thing so deplorable as I am!’
‘I thought I did wrong to say anything,’ said Glastonbury, speaking as it were to himself.
Ferdinand made no observation. He turned himself in his bed, with his face averted from Glastonbury.
‘Good night,’ said Glastonbury, after remaining some time in silence.
‘Good night,’ said Ferdinand, in a faint and mournful tone.
CHAPTER V.
Which, on the Whole, Is Perhaps as Remarkable a Chapter as
Any in the Work.
WRETCHED as he was, the harsh business of life could not be neglected; Captain Armine was obliged to be in Lincoln’s Inn by ten o’clock the next morning. It was on his return from his lawyer, as he was about to cross Berkeley-square, that a carriage suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, and a female hand apparently beckoned to him from the window. He was at first very doubtful whether he were indeed the person to whom the signal was addressed, but as on looking around there was not a single human being in sight, he at length slowly approached the equipage, from which a white handkerchief now waved with considerable agitation. Somewhat perplexed by this incident, the mystery was, however, immediately explained by the voice of Lady Bellair.