But later, when the excitement had worn itself away, and he calmed down to sobriety and ordinary looks, Arthur sat with hushed breath, half petrified at the change he saw. Even Roland, never famous for observation, could but mark it. As if the recent emotion were taking its revenge, the change in Hamish Channing seemed very, very marked tonight. The hollow face, the subdued voice with its ring of hopelessness, the feverish cheek and hand--all were sad to hear, to feel, to look upon. It was but a brief visit; Arthur did not stay. He wanted to see about his room, and had one or two purchases to make; and he also expected to find at the hotel letters to answer. He promised to dine with them on the morrow, and to give them as much time as he could during his stay, which might possibly last a fortnight, he laughingly acknowledged, if Mr. Charley prolonged _his_ stay in Paris; as he was not unlikely, if well enough, to do. "So you'll probably have enough of me, Hamish," he concluded, as they shook hands. "Roland, he is strangely altered," were the first words spoken by Arthur, when they went out together. "Didn't I tell you so?" replied Roland. "It is just what strikes me." Arthur walked on in silence, saying no more of what he thought. It was just as if the heart's life had gone out of Hamish; as if some perpetual weight of pain, that would never be lifted, lay on the spirit. They walked to the Strand, and there Arthur made his small purchases, rendered necessary by the non-arrival of his portmanteau. It was striking eight by St. Mary's Church as Roland stood with him at the door of the hotel in Norfolk Street. "These letters that you expect are waiting for you and that you have to answer," said he, resentfully, for he thought Arthur's whole time ought to be given to himself on this, the first evening, "what are they? who are they from?" "Only from Galloway's agents, and one or two more business people. I expect they will make appointments with me for tomorrow, or ask me to make them. There may be a letter from Galloway himself. I quitted Helstonleigh an hour before the day-mail left, and I may have to write to him." Roland growled; he thought himself very ill-used. "It is only eight o'clock, Arthur, and I've said as good as nothing. All you've got to do won't take you more than an hour. Can't you come at nine to lodgings? You'd have the felicity of seeing Mrs. J." "I fear not tonight, Roland."