He had eaten nothing for twelve hours, and called for food, but he would take only dry bread and claret, which was served on a tray in the library.  He said, without any show of feeling, that he must eat before he saw the young hope of Raynham:  so there he sat, breaking bread, and eating great mouthfuls, and washing them down with wine, talking of what they would.  His father’s studious mind felt itself years behind him, he was so completely altered.  He had the precision of speech, the bearing of a man of thirty.  Indeed he had all that the necessity for cloaking an infinite misery gives.  But let things be as they might, he was, there.  For one night in his life Sir Austin’s perspective of the future was bounded by the night.

“Will your go to your wife now?” he had asked and Richard had replied with a strange indifference.  The baronet thought it better that their meeting should be private, and sent word for Lucy to wait upstairs.  The others perceived that father and son should now be left alone.  Adrian went up to him, and said:  “I can no longer witness this painful sight, so Good-night, Sir Famish!  You may cheat yourself into the belief that you’ve made a meal, but depend upon it your progeny—­and it threatens to be numerous—­will cry aloud and rue the day.  Nature never forgives!  A lost dinner can never be replaced!  Good-night, my dear boy.  And here—­oblige me by taking this,” he handed Richard the enormous envelope containing what he had written that evening.  “Credentials!” he exclaimed humorously, slapping Richard on the shoulder.  Ripton heard also the words “propagator—­species,” but had no idea of their import.  The wise youth looked:  You see we’ve made matters all right for you here, and quitted the room on that unusual gleam of earnestness.

Richard shook his hand, and Ripton’s.  Then Lady Blandish said her good-night, praising Lucy, and promising to pray for their mutual happiness.  The two men who knew what was hanging over him, spoke together outside.  Ripton was for getting a positive assurance that the duel would not be fought, but Adrian said:  “Time enough tomorrow.  He’s safe enough while he’s here.  I’ll stop it to-morrow:”  ending with banter of Ripton and allusions to his adventures with Miss Random, which must, Adrian said, have led him into many affairs of the sort.  Certainly Richard was there, and while he was there he must be safe.  So thought Ripton, and went to his bed.  Mrs. Doria deliberated likewise, and likewise thought him safe while he was there.  For once in her life she thought it better not to trust to her instinct, for fear of useless disturbance where peace should be.  So she said not a syllable of it to her brother.  She only looked more deeply into Richard’s eyes, as she kissed him, praising Lucy.  “I have found a second daughter in her, dear.  Oh! may you both be happy!”

They all praised Lucy, now.  His father commenced the moment they were alone.  “Poor Helen!  Your wife has been a great comfort to her, Richard.  I think Helen must have sunk without her.  So lovely a young person, possessing mental faculty, and a conscience for her duties, I have never before met.”