“I came this morning; arrived ten minutes ago from L—. Did not 'select' this place; the place drew me here. Now I have answered all your interrogatories, may I ask you how long you have been here, and why you did not let me know you were coming?”
“Two days only. I should have told you, but did not suppose you could leave for a moment, knowing the pressure of your business. But how is your wife? She is here of course?”
His averted face did not reveal the look of pain which passed over it, as he replied:
“She is not well, and went home with her mother.”
“So you was lonely and betook yourself to this scene of life to pass the hours away. You could not have chosen a better place. I hope the period of your stay here is not limited to a few days.”
“Instead of that it is indefinite.”
The tone of his voice was too sad to be mistaken, and Mr. Wyman began to think that there might be some truth in the rumor which Florence had heard.
He glanced at Mr. Deane's face, and read all he had failed to see when he first met him.
“I hope nothing has occurred to mar your pleasure while here; at least nothing but what the waves will wash away?”
“The sea is a good place for the soul-weary, as well as for the light of heart. I cannot, however, leave my burden here. I am, indeed, very sad, Hugh. Are you much engaged? If not, we will take a walk together,” he said, in tones which plainly implied a need of a companion like Mr. Wyman.