"Mr. Burkham!" cried Valentine. "What Burkham is that? We've a member of the Ragamuffins called Burkham, a surgeon, who does a little in the literary line."
"The Mr. Burkham who attended my poor dear husband was a very young man," answered Georgy; "a fair man, with a fresh colour and a hesitating manner. I should have been so much better satisfied if he had been older."
"That is the man," said Valentine. "The Burkham I know is fresh-coloured and fair, and cannot be much over thirty."
"Are you and he particularly intimate?" asked George Sheldon, carelessly.
"O dear no, not at all. We speak to each other when we happen to meet—that's all. He seems a nice fellow enough; and he evidently hasn't much practice, or he couldn't afford to be a Ragamuffin, and to write farces. He looks to me exactly the kind of modest deserving man who ought to succeed, and who so seldom does."
This was all that was said about Mr. Burkham; but there was no more talk of ghost-stories, and a temporary depression fell upon the little assembly. The memory of her father had always a saddening influence on Charlotte; and it needed many tender sotto-voce speeches from Valentine to bring back the smiles to her fair young face.
The big electro-plated tea-tray and massive silver teapot made their appearance presently, and immediately after came Mr. Sheldon.
"I want to have a little talk with you after tea, Hawkehurst," he said, as he took his own cup from Georgy's hand, and proceeded to imbibe the beverage standing. "If you will come out into the garden and have a cigar, I can say all I have to say in a very few minutes; and then we can come in here for a rubber. Georgy is a very decent player; and my brother George plays as good a hand at whist as any man at the Conservative or the Reform."
Valentine's heart sank within him. What could Mr. Sheldon want with a few minutes' talk, if not to revoke his gracious permission of some days before—the permission that had been accorded in ignorance of Charlotte's pecuniary advantages? The young man looked very pale as he went to smoke his cigar in Mr. Sheldon's garden. Charlotte followed him with anxious eyes, and wondered at the sudden gravity of his manner. George Sheldon also was puzzled by his brother's desire for a tête-à-tête.
"What new move is Phil going to make?" he asked himself. The two men lit their cigars, and got them well under weigh before Mr. Sheldon began to talk.