The evening being damp and chilly, a fire was kindled in the apartment in which Gerald dined--the same in which both had witnessed the dying moments of their mother, and Henry those of their father. It had been chosen by the former, in the height of her malady, for its cheerfulness, and she had continued in it until the hour of her decease; while Major Grantham had selected it for his chamber of death for the very reason that it had been that of his regretted wife. Henry, having already dined, sat at the opposite extremity of the table watching his brother, whose features he had so longed to behold once more; yet not without a deep and bitter feeling of grief, that those features should have undergone so complete a change in their expression towards himself. Gerald had thrown off the temporary and ill-fitting vestments exchanged for his own wet clothing, and now that he appeared once more in his customary garb, an extraordinary alteration was perceptible in his whole appearance. Instead of the blooming cheek, and rounded and elegant form, for which he had always been remarkable, he now offered to the eye of his anxious brother, an emaciated figure, and a countenance pale even to wanness--while evidence of much care and inward suffering might be traced in the stern contraction of his hitherto open brow. There was also a dryness in his speech that startled and perplexed even more than the change in his person. The latter might be the effect of imprisonment, and its anxiety and privation, coupled with the exhaustion arising from his recent accident; but how was the first to be accounted for, and wherefore was he, after so long a separation, and under such circumstances, thus incommunicative and unaffectionate? All these reflections occurred to the mind of the sensitive Henry, as he sat watching, and occasionally addressing a remark to, his taciturn brother, until he became fairly bewildered in his efforts to find a clue to his conduct. The horrible dread which had first suggested itself of the partial overthrow of intellect, had passed away, but to this had succeeded a discovery attended by quite as much concern, although creating less positive alarm. He had seen, with inexpressible pain, that Gerald ate but little, seeming rather to loathe his food, while on the other hand he had recourse more frequently to wine, drinking off bumpers with greedy avidity, until, yielding at length to the excess of his potations, he fell fast asleep in the arm-chair he had drawn to the fire, overcome by the mingled influence of wine, fatigue and drowsiness.