Meanwhile Lionel Hammerton led a life of excitement in London. Proud and weak, as the reader has seen, Earl Verner’s brother could not overcome his terrible disappointment. He was mad with vexation, and he hated himself for losing the prize which had fallen so strangely to his brother’s lot. That this woman had loved him with all her heart he now believed, and that she had married his brother out of pique or revenge he believed also. Why had he doubted her? That miserable thought about mercenary motives; he despised himself for harbouring it, and yet it was a plausible doubt, he confessed to himself. What should he do? Go to India again and for good, without returning to Montem. He would. There could be no good purpose served in seeing her again. It would be manly to depart now. He would do so. Thus he would resolve at night only to break his resolution in the morning, and the end was a cab to Paddington and a ticket for Brazencrook. When Lionel had arrived at Severntown, however, he changed his mind again, got out, and drove to the College Green, where he found Arthur Phillips at work in his familiar studio. “At last,” said Arthur, reciprocating Lionel’s hearty greeting, “at last; I feared you had forgotten your friend.” “No chance of that,” said Lionel; “your name is in everybody’s mouth, and I have seen your great picture ‘now on view.’” “In England all this time, and not even a letter from you!” said Arthur. “I meant to have looked you up the first day after my arrival,--I did indeed, but at the time I thought you miserable.” “Miserable!” said the artist with some astonishment. “Yes; but it was I all the time who had reason for sympathy.” “Let me ring the bell,” said Arthur. “There! Now go on.” A man-servant answering the bell, the artist said, “Take Captain Hammerton’s portmanteau into the blue room.” “Yes, sir,” said the man. “Of course you will make a short stay here,” said Arthur, once more addressing his friend. “I will not leave you to-day at any rate,” said Lionel. “May I smoke?” “Of course you may,” said Arthur, opening the old cupboard by the fireplace and producing cigars and lights. “How familiar the old room looks,” said Lionel. “You have made no change here.” “No,” said Arthur; “none was required.” “_You_ are changed, Arthur--changed for the better. You seem to have lost some of your quiet dreamy nature. There is more animation in your step and in your voice. How well you look!” “Yes, thank God, I am well,” said Arthur. “Success in all things--success in your profession--success in love,” said Lionel; “you should look well and happy. By heavens, Arthur, I envy you!” Arthur shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly, and said no man could judge another’s happiness sufficiently to justify envy.