CHAPTER XXVII.
FLOUTED.
Lord Lamerton put his hand to his head—he could not have spoken if addressed, he was dumfoundered. After the assault delivered by James Welsh, he might possibly have blundered through some sort of self-exculpation, but the attack of Captain Saltren was so amazing, so unexpected, so different in kind from anything against which he was armed, that he could not speak, could not utter a syllable.
He was all at once caught by the arm, and saw the faces of Jingles and Arminell.
"My lord," said young Saltren, hastily, "you must not stay here. The people are incensed, and may do you an injury."
Lord Lamerton looked from the tutor to his daughter, and then back again. What had brought him there? Why had Arminell thus acted in disobedience to his wishes, and against common decorum? But he said nothing, he was struck dumb. The world was turned upside down, and those who had stood on their feet were now on their heads.
Young Saltren took his arm, and he allowed himself to be led away.
He did not recover at once from his bewilderment. He was as a man stunned. What he had experienced that night was unlike any other experience he had gone through. A sense of helplessness momentarily came upon him, of
