Next day broke chill and dismal, and none of the folk at Carlingford House seemed lively except Edith. Mrs. Paulton was depressed because her only son was going away from home and into a country of which she had a vague and unfavourable notion. O'Brien was sulky at the thought of being torn from the side of Madge, now that he might talk freely to her of love and their prospects, and the brutal Commissioners. Mrs. Davenport was depressed by a variety of circumstances and considerations, and Alfred had much to make him anything but cheerful. Mr. Paulton's seriousness--that was the strongest word which could fairly be applied to his humour--was due to the dulness of the weather, and a depreciation in the value of some shares held by him. During the day each of the travellers was more or less busy with preparations. Mrs. Davenport had to go to town early in order to transact business she had neglected the day before. Alfred stayed mostly in his room, and O'Brien, far from sweet-tempered, managed, through the unsought contrivance of Edith, to be a whole hour alone with Madge. "You know," he said to her, when preliminaries had been disposed of, "it's a beastly nuisance to have to go away from you now. I'd much rather stop, I assure you." "You are very kind." "Don't be satirical, Madge. No woman ever yet showed to advantage when satirical. I say it's a great shame to have to go away, particularly when it's only to save appearances; for now that Blake has once more come on the scene, all is up with poor Alfred. Upon my word, Madge, I pity him." "Do you like her, Jerry?" "No. I like you. I like you very much. You're not a humbug." "Is she?" "No. But she's too awfully serious. I cannot help thinking she ought to do everything to the slow music of kettledrums." "Why kettle-drums?" "I don't know. I suppose it's because the concerted kettle-drum is the most bald and arid form of harmonious row. I'm afraid my language is neither select nor expressive. But one can't help one's feelings--particularly when one's feelings make one like you. I really am sorry to have to leave you." "But you mustn't blame me for that." "Now you are quite unreasonable. You must know that a man without a grievance is as insipid as a woman without vanity." "Jerry, I'm not a bit vain; I never was a bit vain. What could I be vain about?" "Ungrateful girl! Have I not laid my hand and fortune, including the bodies of the murdered Commissioners, at your feet?" "You are silly, Jerry." "How am I silly? In having laid my hand and fortune and the bodies----" "No. In talking such nonsense." "And you are not vain of having made a conquest of me?" "Jerry, I'm very fond of you, and I don't like you to talk to me as if you thought I was only a silly girl whom you were trying to amuse with any silly things you could think of. I hope you don't believe I'm a fool?"