"I--I don't know, Charley," returned Robert, in a low and broken voice; "I don't know. I am--I am almost afraid."
"Afraid, Robert, of what? That she will not see you? Well, that risk must be run; but I feel so confident that there is no danger of her refusing to do so, that I can hardly excuse your hesitation. I know I cannot inspire you with the confidence I feel, but at least act as if you felt it; and remember that the influence of time has been all in your favour. She has had leisure to forgive, if not to forget, one injury, and to remember and miss the innumerable proofs of love you gave her. You will start to-morrow, will you not?" Yeldham put the question in a business-like tone, which dismissed discussion, and obliged Robert to rouse himself from thought to action.
"Yes, yes; since you think I ought, I will go to-morrow. Can you come with me, Charley?"
"I don't know; if you wish it very much, I will try. Send round in the morning, and I will let you know."
These were almost the last words spoken between the friends before they parted, Robert going his way to Brixton, and Yeldham returning to his chambers, to pass several hours of the night in so arranging his work as to admit of a brief absence from London.
The morrow brought Robert's messenger, but not the expected question. On the contrary, Robert sent word to Yeldham that he wished to see him, feeling too ill to "keep his appointment."
The first glance which Charles Yeldham gave at his friend showed him that he must revert to the second alternative which had presented itself to his mind. Old Alice had admitted him, and had told him "Master Robert" was bad again with "them spazims;" and the state of prostration in which Robert lay on a large sofa, drawn as near the dining-room fire as its size would admit, fully bore out her assertion. Mrs. Streightley was not at home, her daughter requiring her services just then; and the interview between the friends was quite uninterrupted.
Robert's complete inability to undertake a journey to Paris being admitted, his nervous impatience for Yeldham's departure in his stead became uncontrollable. Yeldham did not attempt to contest it, but assured him that the following day should see him at Paris, and, if by any effort or exertion the thing were possible, in Katharine's presence.
"And I'll bring her back to you, my dear fellow; I'll bring her back to you--rest assured I will."
"No, no, never; I can't believe it; nevertheless go and tell her all. See her; let me see a face that has looked on hers, though I am to see hers no more. Tell her--tell her----"