Page:Francesca Carrara 2.pdf/137

134 no, though that one word would have obliterated the past.

"Avonleigh immediately recognised me; he advanced with unusual cordiality, and, passing his arm through mine, exclaimed 'Arden! how fortunate! You must come home and sup with me—breakfast rather. But no—I hate the dull, undecided morning; night should always last till noon. Come quick; I tell you fairly I want your advice—it will not he the first scrape out of which you have helped me.'

"I gasped for breath; the ground reeled beneath my feet; my eyes closed, to shut out the fiery sparkles that filled the air. I loathed his touch, and yet I grasped his arm, as drowning wretches do a straw, from the strong instinct of nature.

"'You are ill,' said he, supporting me kindly. 'Those weary folios over which you pore are enough to wear out the very soul. I'll try you with the rosy medicine of the flask. To tell you the truth, we both need it.'

"I have said that the devil stood at my side that night—he aided me now. The first agony was past, and I burned with a fierce desire to know the whole. Something I muttered about fatigue, and followed Avonleigh. He suspected