Turning down Essex Street and so to the left, he traversed the courts and windings, and mounted the stairs to the barrister's rooms. Many a merry hour had he passed in those three small rooms, dignified with the name of "Mr. Carr's chambers," but which were in fact also Mr. Carr's dwelling-place—and some sad ones.
Lord Hartledon knocked at the outer door with his stick—a somewhat faint, doubtful knock; not with the free hand of one at ease with himself and the world. For one thing, he was uncertain as to the reception he should meet with.
Mr. Carr came to the door himself; his clerk was out. When he saw who was his visitor he stood in comic surprise. Val stepped in, extending his hand; and it was heartily taken.
"You are not offended with me, then, Carr?"
"Nay," said Mr. Carr, "I have no reason to be offended. Your sin was not against me."
"That's a strong word, 'sin.'"
"It is spoken," was the answer; "but I need not speak it again. I don't intend to quarrel with you. I was not, I repeat, the injured party."
"Yet you took yourself off in dudgeon, as though you were, leaving me without a groomsman."
"I would not remain to witness a marriage that—that you ought not to have entered upon."
"Well, it's done and over, and need not be brought up again," returned Hartledon, a shade of annoyance in his tones.