himself had she consented to go with him to Guatemala or
elsewhere. And she knew his wife. An uninteresting, dowdy creature
she had called her. But, nevertheless, they had been in company
together more than once. So she presented her compliments, and
expressed her sorrow, and hoped that she might be allowed to call.
There had been no one for whom she had felt more sincere respect and
esteem than for her late friend Mr. Ferdinand Lopez. To this note
there was sent an answer written by Mr. Wharton himself.

MADAM,

My daughter is too ill to see even her own friends.

I am, Madam,
Your obedient servant,

ABEL WHARTON.

After this, life went on in a very quiet way at Manchester Square
for many weeks. Gradually Mrs. Lopez recovered her capability of
attending to the duties of life. Gradually she became again able
to interest herself in her brother's pursuits and in her father's
comforts, and the house returned to its old form as it had been
before these terrible two years, in which the happiness of the
Wharton and Fletcher families had been marred, and scotched, and
almost destroyed for ever by the interference of Ferdinand Lopez.
But Mrs. Lopez never for a moment forgot that she had done the
mischief,--and that the black enduring cloud had been created solely
by her own perversity and self-will. Though she would still defend
her late husband if any attack were made upon his memory, not the
less did she feel that hers had been the fault, though the punishment
had come upon them all.

CHAPTER LXII

Phineas Finn Has a Book to Read

The sensation created by the man's death was by no means confined
to Manchester Square, but was very general in the metropolis, and,
indeed, throughout the country. As the catastrophe became the subject
of general conversation, many people learned that the Silverbridge
affair had not, in truth, had much to do with it. The man had killed
himself, as many other men have done before him, because he had run
through his money and had no chance left of redeeming himself. But to
the world at large, the disgrace brought upon him by the explanation
given in Parliament was the apparent cause of his self-immolation,
and there were not wanting those who felt and expressed a sympathy
for a man who could feel so acutely the effect of his own
wrong-doing. No doubt he had done wrong in asking the Duke for the
money. But the request, though wrong, might almost be justified.
T