What was it ?--All that one can picture for oneself branded into the countenance of a man unable to repress the least emotion, who had worked himself into the belief that Thurnall had betrayed his secret.
"My dear Mr.Vavasour," cried Campbell, of course unable to guess the truth, and supposing vaguely that he was 'ill;' "I am sure that--that the sun has overpowered you" (the only possible thing he could think of).

"Lie down on the sofa a minute" (Vavasour was actually reeling with rage and terror), "and I will run up to Thurnall's for salvolatile." Elsley, who thought him the most consummate of hypocrites, cast on him a look which he intended to have been withering, and rushed out of the room, leaving the two staring at each other.
Valencia was half inclined to laugh, knowing Elsley's petulance and vanity: but the impossibility of guessing a cause kept her quiet.
Major Campbell stood for full five minutes; not as one astounded, but as one in deep and anxious thought.
"What can be the matter, mon Saint Pere ?" asked she at last, to break the silence.
"That there are more whims in the world than yours, dear Queen Whims; and I fear darker ones.

Let us walk up together after this man.

I have offended him." "Nonsense! I dare say he wanted to get home to write poetry, as you did not praise what he had written.

I know his vanity and flightiness." "You do ?" asked he quickly, in a painful tone.