They walked up the hill together, and Mrs Trevelyan, now well knowing the ways of the place, went round at once to the front terrace.  There he was, seated in his arm-chair, dressed in the same way as yesterday, dirty, dishevelled, and gaudy with various colours; but Stanbury could see at once that his mood had greatly changed.  He rose slowly, dragging himself up out of his chair, as they came up to him, but shewing as he did so, and perhaps somewhat assuming, the impotency of querulous sickness.  His wife went to him, and took him by the hand, and placed him back in his chair.  He was weak, he said, and had not slept, and suffered from the heat; and then he begged her to give him wine.  This she did, half filling for him a tumbler, of which he swallowed the contents greedily.  ‘You see me very poorly, Stanbury, very poorly,’ he said, seeming to ignore all that had taken place on the previous day.

‘You want change of climate, old fellow,’ said Stanbury.

‘Change of everything; I want change of everything,’ he said.  ’If I could have a new body and a new mind, and a new soul!’

’The mind and soul, dear, will do well enough, if you will let us look after the body,’ said his wife, seating herself on a stool near his feet.  Stanbury, who had settled beforehand how he would conduct himself, took out a cigar and lighted it and then they sat together silent, or nearly silent, for half an hour.  She had said that if Hugh would do so, Trevelyan would soon become used to the presence of his old friend, and it seemed that he had already done so.  More than once, when he coughed, his wife fetched him some drink in a cup, which he took from her without a word.  And Stanbury the while went on smoking in silence.

‘You have heard, Louis,’ she said at last, ’that, after all, Nora and Mr Stanbury are going to be married?’

’Ah yes; I think I was told of it.  I hope you may be happy, Stanbury, happier than I have been.’  This was unfortunate, but neither of the visitors winced, or said a word.

’It will be a pity that papa and mamma cannot be present at the wedding,’ said Mrs Trevelyan.

’If I had to do it again, I should not regret your father’s absence; I must say that.  He has been my enemy.  Yes, Stanbury, my enemy.  I don’t care who hears me say so.  I am obliged to stay here, because that man would swear every shilling I have away from me if I were in England.  He would strive to do so, and the struggle in my state of health would be too much for me.’

‘But Sir Marmaduke sails from Southampton this very week,’ said Stanbury.

’I don’t know.  He is always sailing, and always coming back again.  I never asked him for a shilling in my life, and yet he has treated me as though I were his bitterest enemy.’

‘He will trouble you no more now, Louis,’ said Mrs Trevelyan.

’He cannot trouble you again.  He will have left England before you can possibly reach it.’