"It is, you pert puss," insisted Aubrey, with a good-natured laugh; and then, turning to Mrs. Aubrey, "What do you say, Agnes?"
"Oh—why—I really like it very much as it is."
"I sha'n't alter it," said Aubrey, laughing.
"Then I'll alter it when you're gone," quoth Kate, jauntily, and bringing her beautiful laughing face so near his own, with a kind of air of defiance, that he kissed her forehead, and said it should be as she chose.
Just then a knock at the door announced a visitor, who proved to be Mr. Runnington. Why it was they hardly knew; but they all slightly changed color. He had called so early, he said, to insure seeing Mr. Aubrey before he went to the Temple; and, though he had been shown into the study, Mr. Aubrey insisted on his joining the breakfast-table.
"We've very plain fare for you, however," said he, as Mr. Runnington yielded to his wishes.
Mr. Aubrey perceived, with some uneasiness, that the kind and thoughtful countenance of Mr. Runnington wore rather an anxious expression. And indeed so it was. When he looked at those who sat before him—lovely, elegant, yet with a plainly forced cheerfulness—reflected on the sufferings which they had passed through, and those which were but too evidently in store for them—and for the first bitter instalment of which he had come to prepare Mr. Aubrey—could he but feel very deep sympathy for them? As soon as he had retired with Mr. Aubrey to the study, in a low tone he explained his errand, which was to apprise him that, the evening before, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap's BILL had come in.
"Well, show it me, if you please," said Mr. Aubrey, calmly, extending his hand.
"My dear sir, why do you suppose I have it with me?" inquired Mr. Runnington, with a concerned air. "You are not accustomed to such matters—God forbid you should be! It is too bulky for me to have brought with me, and lies at our office!"
"What is the amount of it, then?" inquired Mr. Aubrey, dreading to hear the answer; while Mr. Runnington took out of his pocket-book a slip of paper, which he handed to Mr. Aubrey, and on which the latter read—"£3,946, 14s. 6d." He gazed at it for some moments in silence, and became very pale. Mr. Runnington could hardly bear to look at him, and think of the two lovely women in the adjoining room, who were so fearfully interested in the intelligence which had so dismayed Mr. Aubrey.