the station moodily by
himself, and the place is one not apt to restore cheerfulness to a
moody man by any resources of its own. When the time for departure
came Mr. Glascock sought him and found him; but Trevelyan had chosen
a corner for himself in a carriage, and declared that he would rather
avoid the ladies for the present. "Don't think me uncivil to leave
you," he said, "but the truth is, I don't like American ladies."

"I do rather," said Mr. Glascock.

"You can say that I've got a headache," said Trevelyan. So Mr.
Glascock returned to his friends, and did say that Mr. Trevelyan had
a headache. It was the first time that a name had been mentioned
between them.

"Mr. Trevelyan! What a pretty name. It sounds like a novel," said
Olivia.

"A very clever man," said Mr. Glascock, "and much liked by his own
circle. But he has had trouble, and is unhappy."

"He looks unhappy," said Caroline.

"The most miserable looking man I ever saw in my life," said Olivia.
Then it was agreed between them as they went up to Trompetta's hotel,
that they would go on together by the ten o'clock train to Florence.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

VERDICT OF THE JURY--"MAD, MY LORD."

Trevelyan was left alone at Turin when Mr. Glascock went on to
Florence with his fair American friends. It was imperatively
necessary that he should remain at Turin, though he had no business
there of any kind whatever, and did not know a single person in the
city. And of all towns in Italy Turin has perhaps less of attraction
to offer to the solitary visitor than any other. It is new and
parallelogrammatic as an American town, is very cold in cold weather,
very hot in hot weather, and now that it has been robbed of its life
as a capital, is as dull and uninteresting as though it were German
or English. There is the Armoury, and the river Po, and a good hotel.
But what are these things to a man who is forced to live alone in a
place for four days, or perhaps a week? Trevelyan was bound to remain
at Turin till he should hear from Bozzle. No one but Bozzle knew his
address; and he could do nothing till Bozzle should have communicated
to him tidings of what was being done at St. Diddulph's.

There is perhaps no great social question so imperfectly understood
among us at the present day as that which refers to the line which
divides sanity from insanity. That this man is sane and that other
unfortunately mad we do know well enough; and we know also that one