He rambled on, talking rapidly, wildly, of all the improvements and alterations he intended making, with an assumption of a business-like air amidst all this lunacy, which made his distracted state so much the more painful to contemplate. He talked of builders, specifications, estimates, and quantities--was full of self-importance--described picture galleries, music rooms, high-art decorations which would have cost a hundred thousand pounds, and all with absolute belief in his own power to realise these splendid visions. Yet every now and then in the very rush of his projects there came a sudden cloud of fear--his jaw fell--he looked apprehensively behind him--became darkly brooding--muttered something about that hideous charge hanging over him--a conspiracy hatched by men who should have been his friends--the probability of a great trial in Westminster Hall; and then he ran on again about builders and architects--Whistler, Burne Jones--and the marvellous mansion he was going to erect on the site of this present Wimperfield. He rambled on with this horrible garrulity for a time that seemed almost an eternity to his agonised wife, and only ceased at last from positive exhaustion. But when Ida talked to him with gentle firmness, reminding him that Vernon was still the owner of Wimperfield, and that she was never likely to be its mistress, he changed his tone, and appeared to be in some measure recalled to his right senses. 'What, have I been talking rot again?' he muttered, with a sheepish look. 'Yes, of course, the boy is still owner of the place. The alterations must stand over. Get me some brandy and soda, Ida, my mouth is parched.' Ida rose as if to obey him, and rang the bell; but when the servant came she ordered soda-water only. 'Brandy and soda,' Brian said; 'do you hear? Bring a bottle of brandy. I can't get through the night without a little now and then.' Ida gave the man a look which he understood. He left the room in silence. 'Brian,' she said, when he was gone, 'you must not have any more brandy. It is brandy which has done you harm, which has filled your brain with these horrible delusions. Mr. Fosbroke told me so. You affect to despise him; but he is a sensible man who has had large experience.' 'Large experience! in an agricultural village--physicking a handful of rustics!' cried Brian, scornfully. 'I know that he is clever, and I believe him,' answered Ida; 'my own common sense tells me that he is right. I see you the wreck and ruin of what you have been; and I know there is only one reason for this dreadful change. 'It is your fault,' he said sullenly. 'I should be a different man if you had cared for me. I had nothing worth living for.'