tick, tapped his way along through
the great hall and out into the park.

He felt the warmth upon his cheek as he passed slowly along down the
broad drive. "Ah," he murmured to himself, "if only I could once again
see God's sunlight! If I could only see the greenery of nature and the
face of my darling child!" and he sighed brokenly, and went on, his chin
sunk upon his breast, a despairing, hopeless man. Surely no figure more
pathetic than his could be found in the whole of Scotland. Upon him had
been showered honour, great wealth, all indeed that makes life worth
living, and yet, deprived of sight, he existed in that world of
darkness, deceived and plotted against by all about him. His grey
countenance was hard and thoughtful as he passed slowly along tapping
the ground before him, for he was thinking--ever thinking--of the
declaration of his French visitor. He had been betrayed. But by whom?

His thoughts were wandering back to those days when he could see--those
well-remembered days when he had held the House in silence by his
brilliant oratory, and when the papers next day had leading articles
concerning his speeches. He recollected his time-mellowed old club in
St. James's Street--Boodle's--of which he had been so fond. Then came
his affliction. The thought of it all struck him suddenly; and,
clenching his hands, he murmured some inarticulate words through his
teeth. They sounded strangely like a threat. Next instant, however, he
laughed bitterly to himself the dry, harsh laugh of a man into whose
very soul the iron had entered.

In the distance he could hear the shots of his guests, those men who
accepted his hospitality, and who among themselves agreed that he was "a
terrible bore, poor old fellow!" They came up there--with perhaps two
exceptions--to eat his dinners, drink his choice wines, and shoot his
birds, but begrudged him more than ten minutes or so of their company
each day. In the billiard-room of an evening, as he sat upon one of the
long lounges, they would perhaps deign to chat with him; but, alas! he
knew that he was only as a wet blanket to his wife's guests, hence he
kept himself so much to the library--his own domain.

That night he spent half-an-hour in the billiard-room in order to hear
what sport they had had, but very soon escaped, and with Gabrielle
returned again to the library to fulfil his promise and examine the
seal-matrices which the Professor had sent.

To where they sat came burs