“You can tell Mrs. Tredethlyn that I am seriously ill,” he said, when his brother was leaving him. “If you could drop a hint or two about a rapid decline--a secret sorrow undermining a constitution that was originally delicate--the sword and the scabbard, and so on, it would only be friendly to do so. Of course I have seen nothing of Francis since Tuesday, which is perfectly true; only you need say nothing of Tuesday night--curse him!” muttered Harcourt, with a lively recollection of the wounds inflicted by a broken vinegar-cruet, and the pernicious effects of the adulterated vinegar, as exhibited in his inflamed eyes. “You can take care to let Mrs. Tredethlyn understand that her husband has returned to his old haunts and his old companions; and that any anxiety she may be so absurd as to feel about him is wasted upon a person who would be the first to laugh at her folly.” “Dear boy, I have not served my country for nothing,” answered the diplomatist. “You may trust in my discretion and in my power to make the best of an opportunity. The people who plan a conversation beforehand never are able to talk according to their programme. The other party doesn’t give the necessary cues. The man who trusts to the inspiration of the moment never makes a failure. The divine _afflatus_ is always right; but you can’t pump the sacred wind into a man with vulgar bellows. It comes, dear boy; and it will come to your humble servant, I have no doubt. I shall dine at the St. James’s, and I’ve two or three places to go to in the evening; so I leave you to your reflections and the goulard-water. Adieu!” The diplomatist had no opportunity of serving his brother by any sentimental hints about secret sorrows and mortal illness; for Maude sent Julia Desmond to receive her visitor, and to hear anything he might have to say about Francis. Mrs. Tredethlyn would see no one and would go nowhere. Julia had been busy all the morning writing excuses to people whose invitations had been accepted. Miss Grunderson had called, and had sent up pencilled supplications upon the backs of cards, imploring her dear Mrs. Tredethlyn to see her, if only for a few minutes; but Maude had been inexorable. There are sorrows which friendship is powerless to soothe; and in the time of such sorrow noisy friendship is above all things intolerable. Maude shuddered as she thought of Miss Grunderson’s warm paws and schoolgirl endearments; so Rosa was sent away disconsolate. Roderick Lowther would have been very well contented to loiter in Mrs. Tredethlyn’s morning-room talking to Julia, whose half-haughty, half-defiant manner had a wonderful fascination for him; but that young lady gave him no opportunity of dawdling. She had seen his tactics with regard to Miss Grunderson, and took care to let him know that she understood his diplomacy; but she listened to all his insinuations against Francis, and he saw her eyes brighten as he uttered them.