The tears welled up to his eyes. He laid his other hand—I had taken one—across his face. I bent over him with a whisper.
"What has passed to-night need never be recurred to between us; and I shall never speak of it to another. We all have our trials and troubles, Lennard. A very weighty one is lying now upon me, though it is not absolutely my own—brought upon me, you see, as yours was. And it is worse than yours."
"Worse!" he exclaimed, looking at me.
"More dangerous in its possible consequences. Now mind," I broke off, shaking him by the hand, "you are not to attempt to come to Essex Street until you are quite strong enough for it. But I shall see you here again on Monday, for I have two or three questions to ask you as to some of the matters that have transpired during my absence. Good-night, Lennard; keep up a good heart; you will outlive your trials yet."
And when I left him he was fairly sobbing.
CHAPTER VI.
DANGER.