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Take your disappointment like a gentleman." I had finished my dinner and had become keenly interested in poor Mr. Searle's unencouraging or unencouraged claim; so interested that I at last hated to hear his trouble reflected in his voice without being able all respectfully! to follow it in his face.
"He is my husband, and you should not speak about him so to me," said Miranda, struggling with her tears, and scarce knowing in what vein to converse with the rude woman, whose strange language bewildered and frightened her. "Bah!" said Moll, roughly. "You're a simpleton. There, don't cry, though heaven knows you've cause enough, poor thing! Philip Searle's a villain.
But there was something even in this flat humility that seemed to him to mock him, so that he flushed crimson with rage and spite and flung her away. "You always were an idiot! Go to bed." In poor Searle's face as well the gathered serenity had been by this time all blighted and distorted and the reflected brightness of his happy day turned to blank confusion.
During the interim between Searle's departure and return affairs had been a trifle complicated in another direction affairs that lay between the gambler and his friend, the lumberman, big Trimmer. Trimmer had been paid one thousand dollars only of the sum agreed upon when he gave the name of Culver to the half-breed Indian, Cayuse.
A pillar, said to have been designed by Inigo Jones, stood in New Square, or, as it was called from a lessee at the beginning of the eighteenth century, Searle's Court. This ground and the site of the Law Courts formed part of Fickett's Field, the tilting-place of the Templars. Over the arch of the gate are carved three shields of arms.
It would be no less than madness. And yet, it seemed as if she must presently go. Searle's silence, coupled to conditions here, was absolutely intolerable. With plans decidedly hazy nothing but a wild, bright dream really clear she questioned Billy Stitts concerning the roads.
He could not understand her in the least, unless she still had more to do, and thought to hold his friendship, perhaps for Searle's protection. He forced himself to probe in that direction. "And you'd wish to go on being friends?" It was a hard question hard to ask and hard to answer. She colored anew, but she did not flinch.
And then turning to me with an odd little sharp stare: "My cousin's friend is my friend." Miss Searle lowered her fan. The first thing that struck me in Mr. Searle's appearance was his very limited stature, which was less by half a head than that of his sister. The second was the preternatural redness of his hair and beard.
They say fortune comes while we sleep, and, standing there, I felt really tender enough though otherwise most unqualified to be poor Mr. Searle's fortune. As I walked away I noted in one of the little prandial pews I have described the melancholy waiter, whose whiskered chin also reposed on the bulge of his shirt-front.
Just as the vibration of this last stroke was dying on the air the door of communication with Searle's room was flung open and my companion stood on the threshold, pale as a corpse, in his nightshirt, shining like a phantom against the darkness behind him. "Look well at me!" he intensely gasped; "touch me, embrace me, revere me! You see a man who has seen a ghost!"
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