“Yes; to a place called Richmond Bridewell, where I passed some seven or eight days, by no means unpleasantly. It was very quiet, very secure against intrusion. I had a capital room, and very fair food. Indeed I 'm not sure that I did not leave it with a certain regret; but as I had written to my old friend Lord Wilmington, to apprise him of the mistake, and to warn him against the consequences such a blunder might occasion if it befell one less well disposed towards him than myself, I had nothing for it but to take a friendly farewell of my jailer and go.” “I declare few men would have treated the incident so temperately.” “Wilmington's father was my fag at Eton, let me see--no, I 'll not see--how long ago; and Wilmington himself used to come and spend his summer vacations with me when I had that Wiltshire place; and I was very fond of the boy, and as he liked my partridge-shooting, we grew to be fast friends; but why are we talking of these old histories when it is the present that should engage us? I would only caution you once again against letting the story get abroad: there are fellows would like to make a House of Commons row out of it, and I 'd not stand it. Is the doctor sleeping?” added he, in a whisper, as Lendrick sat with closed eyes and clasped hands, mute and motionless. “No,” said Beattie; “it is his way when he is very happy. He is going over to himself all you have been telling him of his children, and he neither sees nor hears aught around him.” “I was going to tell him another piece of news that would probably please him,” said Sir Brook, in the same low tone. “I have nearly completed arrangements for the purchase of the Nest; by this day week I hope it will be Lucy's.” “Oh! do tell him that. I know of nothing that would delight him as much. Lendrick,” said he, touching his arm, “here is something you would like to hear.” “No, no!” muttered he, softly. “Life is too short for these things. No more separations,--no more; we must live together, come what may;” and he stretched out his hands on either side of him, as though to grasp his children. “It is a pity to awaken him from such a dream,” said Fossbrooke, cautiously; “let us steal over to the window and not disturb him.” They crept cautiously away to a window-bench, and talked till late into the night. CHAPTER XIX. MAN TO MAN