hought." And so in tears they parted for that night. But the sorrow
that was bringing him to his grave came from the love of which he had
spoken. It is seldom that a young man may die from a broken heart;
but if an old man have a heart still left to him, it is more fragile.

CHAPTER LXXVII

JOHN KENNEBY'S DOOM

On the evening but one after the trial was over Mr. Moulder
entertained a few friends to supper at his apartments in Great St.
Helen's, and it was generally understood that in doing so he intended
to celebrate the triumph of Lady Mason. Through the whole affair he
had been a strong partisan on her side, had expressed a very loud
opinion in favour of Mr. Furnival, and had hoped that that scoundrel
Dockwrath would get all that he deserved from the hands of Mr.
Chaffanbrass. When the hour of Mr. Dockwrath's punishment had come he
had been hardly contented, but the inadequacy of Kenneby's testimony
had restored him to good humour, and the verdict had made him
triumphant.

"Didn't I know it, old fellow?" he had said, slapping his friend
Snengkeld on the back. "When such a low scoundrel as Dockwrath is
pitted against a handsome woman like Lady Mason he'll not find a jury
in England to give a verdict in his favour." Then he asked Snengkeld
to come to his little supper; and Kantwise also he invited, though
Kantwise had shown Dockwrath tendencies throughout the whole
affair;--but Moulder was fond of Kantwise as a butt for his own
sarcasm. Mrs. Smiley, too, was asked, as was natural, seeing that she
was the betrothed bride of one of the heroes of the day; and Moulder,
in the kindness of his heart, swore that he never was proud, and told
Bridget Bolster that she would be welcome to take a share of what was
going.

"Laws, M.," said Mrs. Moulder, when she was told of this. "A
chambermaid from an inn! What will Mrs. Smiley say?"

"I ain't going to trouble myself with what Mother Smiley may say or
think about my friends. If she don't like it, she may do the other
thing. What was she herself when you first knew her?"

"Yes, Moulder; but then money do make a difference, you know."

Bridget Bolster, however, was invited, and she came in spite of the
grandeur of Mrs. Smiley. Kenneby also of course was there, but he was
not in a happy frame of mind. Since that wretched hour in which he
had heard himself described by the judge as too stupid to be held
of any account by the jury he had become a melancholy, misanthrop