and put on his boots in the hall, and then returned for his newspaper.
By this time Susan had arrived, seated in a four-wheeler. She had not encountered a hansom.
"Go on," said Welsh to his nephew, "I'll follow." He took his newspaper from the table, and brought it with him to the cab.
The direction was given to the driver, and the vehicle started. Welsh would not speak another word to Giles. He threw himself back with a grunt in the cab, and began to read his paper.
Jingles looked dreamily forth from the window on his side. The cab was being driven along Gold Hawk Road; there was not much traffic in it that morning; a coal-cart, a Shepherd's Bush omnibus were passed. The cabman drew up, and swore at an old lady who in crossing the road had dropped a parcel of tracts, which scattered in all directions, and who returned almost under the feet of the horse to recover some of the papers. Mr. James Welsh uttered an exclamation. Saltren did not notice it, he was in a stunned condition unable to take observation of anything, unable to do more than reiterate in his mind, "I have made a mistake—a fatal mistake!" He was unable even to consider in what way it could be rectified, if capable of rectification. He was not in a condition to weigh his uncle's proposals what to do with Arminell. He did not even feel his uncle's rude remarks, they passed over him without producing an impression, so deadened were his faculties by the consternation in which he was. His brain was like a sewing-machine in full operation, with a needle in it, stab—stab—stabbing, and always carrying the same thread, "I've made a mistake—a fatal mistake!" and making therewith a lock stitch incapable of unravelment, that went round and round both heart and brain, and bound them together.
"Good God!" exclaimed Welsh, and let drop his paper
