ught for Dolly. But this attitude astonished me. I was about to
make a tart reply, and then thought better of it.

"Walter, a decanter of wine for Mr. Carvel," says he to the footman.
Then to me: "I am rejoiced to hear that Lord Comyn is out of danger."

I merely stared at him.

"Will you sit?" he continued. "To speak truth, the Annapolis packet came
in last night with news for you. Knowing that you have not had time to
hear from Maryland, I sent for you."

My brain was in such a state that for the moment I took no meaning from
this introduction. I was conscious only of indignation against him for
sending for me, when for all he knew I might have been unable to leave
my bed. Suddenly I jumped from the chair.

"You have heard from Maryland?" I cried. "Is Mr. Carvel dead? Oh, tell
me, is Mr. Carvel dead?" And I clutched his arm to make him wince.

He nodded, and turned away. "My dear old friend is no more," he said.
"Your grandfather passed away on the seventh of last month."

I sank into a chair and bowed my face, a flood of recollections
overwhelming me, a thousand kindnesses of my grandfather coming to mind.
One comfort alone stood forth, even had I gone home with John Paul, I
had missed him. But that he should have died alone with Grafton brought
the tears brimming to my eyes. I had thought to be there to receive his
last words and blessing, to watch over him, and to Smooth his pillow.
Who had he else in the world to bear him affection on his death-bed? The
imagination of that scene drove me mad.

Mr. Manners aroused me by a touch, and I looked up quickly. So quickly
that I surprised the trace of a smile about his weak mouth. Were I to
die to-morrow, I would swear to this on the Evangels. Nor was it the
smile which compels itself upon the weak in serious moments. Nay, there
was in it something malicious. And Mr. Manners could not even act.

"There is more, Richard," he was saying; "there is worse to come. Can
you bear it?"

His words and look roused me from my sorrow. I have ever been short of
temper with those I disliked, and (alas!) with my friends also. And now
all my pent-up wrath against this little man broke forth. I divined his
meaning, and forgot that he was Dorothy's father.

"Worse?" I shouted, while he gave back in his alarm. "Do you mean that
Grafton has got possession of the estate? Is that what you mean, sir?"

"Yes," he gasped, "yes. I pray you be calm."

"And you call that worse than losi