Sheldon reading a
paper, one of the eternal records of the eternal money-market.
The stockbroker had been in and out of the house all day, now sauntering
by the sea-shore, now leaning moodily, with folded arms, on the garden
gate, meditative and silent as the cow that stared at Charlotte; now
pacing the garden walks, with his hands in his pockets and his head bent.
Diana, who in her anxiety kept a close watch upon Mr. Sheldon's
movements, had noted his restlessness, and perceived in it the sign of
growing anxiety on his part. She knew that he had once called himself
surgeon-dentist, and had some medical knowledge, if not so much as he
took credit for possessing. He must, therefore, be better able to judge
the state of Charlotte's health than utterly ignorant observers. If he
were uneasy, there must be real cause for uneasiness. It was on this
account, and on this account only, that Diana watched him.
"He must love her better than I gave him credit for being able to love
any one," Miss Paget said to herself. "Dear girl! The coldest heart is
touched by her sweetness."
Mr. Sheldon looked up from his newspaper as Valentine came into the room,
and saluted the visitor with a friendly nod.
"Glad to see you, Hawkehurst," he said. "_Semper fidelis_, and that
kind of thing; the very model of devoted lovers. Why, man alive, how
glum you look!"
"I think I have reason to look glum," answered Valentine, gravely; "I
have seen Charlotte.
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