"Just so, sir, Richard Marston."
Mr. Blount had risen, and stood gravely, prepared to take his leave.
"I have kept you a long time, Mr. Blount; will you take anything?"
Mr. Blount declined refreshments.
"I must leave you now, sir; there is a crisis in every life. What has happened to you is stupendous; the danger and the deliverance. That hour is past. May its remembrance be with you ever—day and night! Do not suppose that it can rest in your mind without positive consequences. It must leave you a great deal better or a great deal worse. Farewell, sir."
So they parted. Mr. Marston seemed to have lost all his spirits and half his energy in that interview. He sat motionless in the chair into which he had thrown himself, and gazed listlessly on the floor in a sulky reverie. At length he said—
"That is a most unpleasant old fellow; I wish he was not so unscrupulously addicted to telling truth."
