"What is the matter?"
"Nothing. Don't bother me! It must be near dinner, is it not?"
"Yes. Are you hungry?"
"Very; go and see about it."
She left the room.
A few minutes afterwards he was seated at the table, with Captain Heath's letter before him, carefully copying the writing, and comparing his copy with the original. He smiled grimly at his own success; and after several further trials, he forged a check for eighty pounds, which he had just folded and thrust into his waistcoat pocket, when Blanche returned with the dinner.
His agitation and the eager manner with which he caught up some scraps of paper, and threw them into the fire, did not escape her.
He sat down to dinner, but he could not swallow a morsel; and his hand shook so, that he dared not venture to raise it to his mouth.
"You are ill, dearest," she said. "I am sure you are."
"Pooh! it's want of exercise. I will take a walk."