"But is there to be no atonement for my broken life, rendered barren to me by this man's act?
I tell you, Sir David, there is no such thing as pardon for a wrong like this.

But I know how foolish this talk must seem to you: there is always something ridiculous in the sufferings of a jilted lover." "Not at all, my dear Fenton.

I heartily wish that I could be of use to you in this matter; but there is very little chance of that; and, believe me, there is only one rational course open to you, which is, to forget Miss Nowell, or Mrs.Holbrook, with all possible assiduity." Gilbert smiled, a melancholy incredulous smile.

Sir David's advice was only the echo of John Saltram's counsel--the counsel which he would receive from every man of the world, no doubt--the counsel which he himself would most likely have given to a friend under the same circumstances.
Sir David was very cordial, and wanted his visitor to dine and sleep at Heatherly; but this Gilbert declined.

He was eager to get back to London now that his business was finished.
He arrived in town late that night; and went back to his office-work next day with a dreary feeling that he must needs go through the same dull routine day after day in all the time to come, without purpose or hope in his life, only because a man must go on living somehow to the end of his earthly pilgrimage, whether the sun shine upon him or not.
He went to Queen Anne's Court one evening soon after his return, and told Mr.Nowell all he had discovered at Wygrove.