CHAPTER XXIII. THE PARK

Icamedownalittlebeforeeight,nextmorning,asIknewbythestrikingofadistantclock.Therewasnoappearanceofbreakfast.Iwaitedaboveanhourbeforeitcame,stillvainlylongingforaccesstothelibraryand,afterthatlonelyrepastwasconcluded,Iwaitedagainaboutanhourandahalfingreatsuspenseanddiscomfort,uncertainwhattodo.AtlengthLadyAshbycametobidmegood-morning.Sheinformedmeshehadonlyjustbreakfasted,andnowwantedmetotakeanearlywalkwithherinthepark.SheaskedhowlongIhadbeenup,andonreceivingmyanswer,expressedthedeepestregret,andagainpromisedtoshowmethelibrary.Isuggestedshehadbetterdosoatonce,andthentherewouldbenofurthertroubleeitherwithrememberingorforgetting.Shecomplied,onconditionthatIwouldnotthinkofreading,orbotheringwiththebooksnowforshewantedtoshowmethegardens,andtakeawalkintheparkwithme,beforeitbecametoohotforenjoymentwhich,indeed,wasnearlythecasealready.OfcourseIreadilyassentedandwetookourwalkaccordingly. Aswewerestrollinginthepark,talkingofwhatmycompanionhadseenandheardduringhertravellingexperience,agentlemanonhorsebackrodeupandpassedus.Asheturned,inpassing,andstaredmefullintheface,Ihadagoodopportunityofseeingwhathewaslike.Hewastall,thin,andwasted,withaslightstoopintheshoulders,apaleface,butsomewhatblotchy,anddisagreeablyredabouttheeyelids,plainfeatures,andageneralappearanceoflanguorandflatness,relievedbyasinisterexpressioninthemouthandthedull,soullesseyes. “Idetestthatman!”whisperedLadyAshby,withbitteremphasis,asheslowlytrottedby. “Whoisit?”Iasked,unwillingtosupposethatsheshouldsospeakofherhusband. “SirThomasAshby,”shereplied,withdrearycomposure. “Anddoyoudetest