ast; and that I was
dying like a dog in this cursed caravanserai! O Glastonbury! nothing
that I have ever endured has been equal to the hell of this day. And now
you have come and made me comparatively happy. I shall get up directly.'

Glastonbury looked quite astonished; he could not comprehend how his
fatal intelligence could have produced effects so directly contrary from
those he had anticipated. However, in answer to Ferdinand's reiterated
enquiries, he contrived to give a detailed account of everything that
had occurred, and Ferdinand's running commentary continued to be one of
constant self-congratulation.

'There is, however, one misfortune,' said Ferdinand, 'with which you are
unacquainted, my dear friend.'

'Indeed!' said Glastonbury, 'I thought I knew enough.'

'Alas! she has become a great heiress!'

'Is that it?' said Glastonbury.

'There is the blow,' said Ferdinand. 'Were it not for that, by the soul
of my grandfather, I would tear her from the arms of this stripling.'

'Stripling!' said Glastonbury. 'I never saw a truer nobleman in my
life.'

'Ah!' exclaimed Ferdinand.

'Nay, second scarcely to yourself! I could not believe my eyes,'
continued Glastonbury. 'He was but a child when I saw him last; but so
were you, Ferdinand. Believe me, he is no ordinary rival.'

'Good-looking?'

'Altogether of a most princely presence. I have rarely met a personage
so highly accomplished, or who more quickly impressed you with his moral
and intellectual excellence.'

'And they are positively engaged?'

'To be married next month,' replied Glastonbury.

'O Glastonbury! why do I live?' exclaimed Ferdinand; 'why did I
recover?'

'My dear child, but just now you were comparatively happy.'

'Happy! You cannot mean to insult me. Happy! Oh, is there in this world
a thing so deplorable as I am!'

'I thought I did wrong to say anything,' said Glastonbury, speaking as
it were to himself.

Ferdinand made no observation. He turned himself in his bed, with his
face averted from Glastonbury.

'Good night,' said Glastonbury, after remaining some time in silence.

'Good night,' said Ferdinand, in a faint and mournful tone.

CHAPTER V.

_Which, on the Whole, Is Perhaps as Remarkable a Chapter as
Any in the Work_.

WRETCHED as he was, the harsh business of life could not be neglected;
Captain Armine was obliged to be in Lincoln's Inn by ten o'clock the
next morning. It was on his return from