"I cannot be sorry for him," replied the other, in a dry, harsh tone: "he has acted like a fool."
The next moment Mr. Hayley approached, still with the same thoughtful air; and probably in his reverie he would have passed even his son, had not the two men who had been speaking of him stopped him with the ordinary inquiries of the morning. He answered shortly, but on raising his eyes saw Henry before him, and inquired somewhat eagerly whither he was going.
"I am going to call on Mr. Scriven," replied the lad; "I have not seen him for several days, and he was very kind to me when last I was there."
"Stop, stop!" said Mr. Hayley; and then, after pausing for a few moments, and fixing his eye gloomily upon the pavement, he added, "Well--go," and hurried on.
The lad pursued his way to the counting-house and inquired for Mr. Scriven. He was asked to wait a few minutes, and then ushered into a large handsome room, where the head of the house usually sat.
"Ah, Henry!" he said, in a tone frank enough, "did you not meet your father?"
"Yes, sir," replied the youth; "I met him close to the door."
"Did he say anything particular to you?" demanded Mr. Scriven.
"No; he only asked where I was going," replied Henry, "and when I told him, he said 'Very well, go on.'"
"Humph!" said Mr. Scriven. "Have you any business to speak about, my young friend? or is this merely a call?"