CHAPTER VIII.

BEING BUT ONE OF THE CONSIDERATE PAUSES IN A LONG JOURNEY,

CHARITABLY AFFORDED TO THE READER.

Colonel Morley found Mr. Poole at home, just returned from his office;

he stayed with that gentleman nearly an hour, and then went straight to

Darrell. As the time appointed to meet the French acquaintance, who

depended on his hospitalities for a dinner, was now nearly arrived,

Alban's conference with his English friend was necessarily brief and

hurried, though long enough to confirm one fact in Mr. Poole's statement,

which had been unknown to the Colonel before that day, and the admission

of which inflicted on Guy Darrell a pang as sharp as ever wrenched

confession from the lips of a prisoner in the cells of the Inquisition.

On returning from Greenwich, and depositing his Frenchman in some

melancholy theatre, time enough for that resentful foreigner to witness

theft and murder committed upon an injured countryman's vaudeville, Alban

hastened again to Carlton Gardens. He found Darrell alone, pacing his

floor to and fro, in the habit he had acquired in earlier life, perhaps

when meditating some complicated law case, or wrestling with himself

against some secret sorrow. There are men of quick nerves who require a

certain action of the body for the better composure of the mind; Darrell

was one of them.

During these restless movements, alternated by abrupt pauses, equally

inharmonious to the supreme quiet which characterised his listener's

tastes and habits, the haughty gentleman disburdened himself of at least

one of the secrets which he had hitherto guarded from his early friend.

But as that secret connects itself with the history of a Person about

whom it is well that the reader should now learn more than was known to

Darrell himself, we will assume our privilege to be ourselves the

narrator, and at the cost of such dramatic vivacity as may belong to

dialogue, but with the gain to the reader of clearer insight into those

portions of the past which the occasion permits us to reveal--we will

weave into something like method the more imperfect and desultory

communications by which Guy Darrell added to Alban Morley's distasteful

catalogue of painful subjects. The reader will allow, perhaps, that we

thus evince a desire to gratify his curiosity, when we state that of

Arabella Crane Darrell spoke but in one brief and angry sentence, and

that not by the name in which the reader as yet alone knows her; and it

is with the antecedents of Arabella Crane that our explanation will

tranquilly commence.

What Will He Do with It? — Volume 07 · 第 8 / 25 章