At the door there was another parting. "There's a long dull day before me--say, rather, _night_; weary eyes, sleepless brain," murmured Longcluse, in a rather dismal soliloquy, standing in his slippers and dressing-gown again at the window. "Suspense! What a hell is in that word! Chain a man across a rail, in a tunnel--pleasant situation! let him listen for the faint fifing and drumming of the engine, miles away, not knowing whether deliverance or death may come first. Bad enough, that suspense. What is it to mine! I shall see her to-night. I shall see her, and how will it all be? Richard Arden wishes it--yes, he does. 'Away, slight man!' It is Brutus who says that, I think. Good Heaven! Think of my life--the giddy steps I go by. That dizzy walk by moonlight, when I lost my way in Switzerland--beautiful nightmare!--the two mile ledge of rock before me, narrow as a plank; up from my left, the sheer wall of rock; at my right so close that my glove might have dropped over it, the precipice; and curling vapour on the cliffs above, that seem about to break, and envelope all below in blinding mist. There is my life translated into landscape. It has been one long adventure--danger--fatigue. Nature is full of beauty--many a quiet nook in life, where peace resides; many a man whose path is broad and smooth. Woe to the man who loses his way on Alpine tracks, and is benighted!" Now Mr. Longcluse recollected himself. He had letters to read and note. He did this rapidly. He had business in town. He had fifty things on his hands; and, the day over, he would see Alice Arden again. CHAPTER VIII. CONCERNING A BOOT. Several pairs of boots were placed in Mr. Longcluse's dressing-room. "Where are the boots that I wore yesterday?" asked he. "If you please, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, "the man called this morning for the right boot of that pair." "What man?" asked Mr. Longcluse, rather grimly. "Mr. Armagnac's man, Sir." "Did you desire him to call for it?" asked Mr. Longcluse. "No, Sir. I thought you must have told some one else to order him to send for it," said Franklin. "_I?_ You ought to know I leave those things to _you_," said Mr. Longcluse, staring at him more aghast and fierce than the possible mislaying of a boot would seem to warrant. "Did you see Armagnac's man?" "No, Sir. It was Charles who came up, at eight o'clock, when you were still asleep, and said the shoemaker had called for the right boot of the pair you wore yesterday. I had placed them outside the door, and I gave it him, Sir, supposing it all right." "Perhaps it _was_ all right; but you know Charles has not been a week here. Call him up. I'll come to the bottom of this."