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Updated: May 23, 2025
Having done his nightly homage, Severne left the theater, and soon afterward the performance concluded, and Ina took her friend home. Ashmead was in the hall to show his patroness to her carriage a duty he never failed in. Rhoda shook hands with him, and he said, "Delighted to see you here, miss. You will be a great comfort to her."
The conspiracy you dread will be averted by the other faults of their character, their jealousy and their petulant tempers. Take my word for it, they are sparring at this moment; and that poor, silly Severne meditating and moderating, and getting scratched on both sides for trying to be just." At this moment the door opened, and Fanny Dover glittered on the threshold in Cambridge blue.
"Now I am No. 3 I who used to retort and keep girls in their places with difficulty. Here is Ned Severne, too, reduced to silence. Why, where's your tongue? Miss Gale, you would hardly believe it, this is our chatterbox. We have been days and days, and could not get in a word edgewise for him.
Now this banter did not please Zoe; so she fixed her eyes upon Severne, and said, "You forget the principal figure a mysterious young gentleman who looks nineteen, and is twenty-nine, and was lost sight of in England nine years ago.
Severne then made the revelation which he had been preparing for a day or two past; and, to avoid eternal comments by the author, I must once more call in the artful aid of the printers. The true part of Mr. Severne's revelation is in italics; the false in ordinary type. "When my father died, I inherited an estate in Huntingdonshire. It was not so large as Vizard's, but it was clear.
Severne stood fixed, looking after her; cold crept among his bones: he was roused by a voice above him saying, very inquisitively, "What does she say?" He looked up, and it was Fanny Dover leaning over the balusters of the next landing. She had evidently seen all, and heard some. Severne had no means of knowing how much. His heart beat rapidly.
"First, a sick friend; then a bleeding at the nose; and now he won't drive to the lake with us. Arrears of correspondence? Pooh!" Now, Fanny's suspicions were deeper than Zoe's; she had observed Severne keenly: but it was not her cue to speak. She yawned and said, "What does it matter?" "Don't be unkind, Fanny. It matters to me." "Not it. You have another ready." "What other?
Probably he would explain his conduct; but, then, that Fanny should foretell he would avoid her company, rather than call on Mademoiselle Klosking, and that Fanny should be right this made the thing serious, and galled Zoe to the quick: she was angry with Fanny for prophesying truly; she was rather angry with Severne for not coming, and more angry with him for making good Fanny's prediction.
Severne shot in, "A bank was broken last week." "Was it? Then all it lost has returned to it, or will return to it to-night; for gamblers know no day of rest." "Oh, yes, they do. It is shut on Good-Friday." "You surprise me. Only three hundred and sixty-four days in the year! Brainless avarice is more reasonable than I thought. Severne, yours is a very serious case.
Every line of the figment was alive to her, and she realized the tale. Severne only repeated it. At the last touch of his cold art, the warm-hearted girl could contain no longer. "Oh, poor Mr. Severne!" she cried; "poor Mr. Severne!" And the tears ran down her cheeks.
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