CHAPTER LVII.
CONTAINS AN EXTRAORDINARY DISCLOSURE.
Roundjacket was clad in a handsome dressing-gown, and was heading, or essaying to read--for he had the rheumatism in his right shoulder--a roll of manuscript.

Beside him lay a ruler, which he grasped, and made a movement of hospitable reception with, as Verty came in.
"Welcome, welcome, my young friend," said Roundjacket; "you see me laid up, sir" "You're not much sick, I hope, sir ?" said Verty, taking the arm-chair, which his host indicated.
"I am, sir--you are mistaken." "I am very sorry." "I thank you for your sympathy," said Roundjacket, running his fingers through his straight hair; "I think, sir I mentioned, the other day, that I expected to be laid up." "Mentioned ?" "On the occasion, sir--" "Oh, the paper!" said Verty, smiling; "you don't mean--" "I mean everything," said Roundjacket; "I predicted, on that occasion, that I expected to be laid up, and I am, sir." This was adroit in Roundjacket.

It was one of those skillful equivocations, by means of which a man saves his character for consistency and judgment, without forfeiting his character for truth.
"Well, it _was_ very bad," said Verty.
"Bad is not the word--abominable is the word--disgraceful is the word!" cried Roundjacket, flourishing his ruler, and suddenly dropping it as a twinge shot through his shoulder.
"Yes," assented Verty; "but talking about it will make you worse, sir.
Mr.Rushton asked me to come and see how you were this morning." "Rushton is thanked," said Mr.Roundjacket,--"Rushton, my young friend, has his good points--so have I, sir.

I nursed him through a seven month's fever--a perfect bear, sir; but he always is _that_.
Tell him that my arm--that I am nearly well, sir, and that nothing but my incapacity to write, from--from--the state of my--feelings," proceeded Roundjacket, "should keep me at home.

Observe, my young sir, that this is no apology.