The vicar's heart sank with a flutter, and then swelled, and sank another bit, and his forehead flushed.
There was a silence.
'You see, Mr. Wylder, I relied, in fact, altogether upon this a—arrangement; and I don't see that any thing is likely to come of it.'
The attorney spoke in the same dry and reserved way, and there was a shadow on his long face.
'I have forfeited his good-will somehow—he has ceased to take any interest in my wretched affairs; I am abandoned, and must be ruined.'
These dreadful thoughts filled in another silence; and then the vicar said—
'I am afraid I have, quite unintentionally, offended you, Mr. Larkin—perhaps in my ignorance of business; and I feel that I should be quite ruined if I were to forfeit your good offices; and, pray tell me, if I have said anything I ought not.'
'Oh, no—nothing, I assure you,' replied Mr. Larkin, with a lofty and gentle dryness. 'Only, I think, I have, perhaps, a little mistaken the relation in which I stood, and fancied, wrongly, it was in the light somewhat of a friend as well as of a professional adviser; and I thought, perhaps, I had rather more of your confidence than I had any right to, and did not at first see the necessity of calling in Lord Chelford, whose experience of business is necessarily very limited, to direct you. You remember, my dear Mr. Wylder, that I did not at all invite these relations; and I don't think you will charge me with want of zeal in your business.'
'Oh! my dear Mr. Larkin, my dear Sir, you have been my preserver, my benefactor—in fact, under Heaven, very nearly my last and only hope.'
'Well, I had hoped I was not remiss or wanting in diligence.'