The young man was left standing on the wooden pavement in the midst of a
great loneliness, yet enveloped in the afterglow, his soul roseate, his
being quavering, his expression, like his cane, instantaneously arrested.
With such promptitude and finish was he disposed of, that, had Miss Carewe
been aware of his name and the condition wrought in him by the single
stroke, she could have sought only the terse Richard of England for a like
executive ability, "Off with his head! So much for Vanrevel!"

She had lifted a slender hand to the fluttering veil, a hand in a white
glove with a small lace gauntlet at the wrist. This gesture was the final
divinity of the radiant vision which remained with the dazed young man as
he went down the street; and it may have been three-quarters of an hour
later when the background of the picture became vivid to him: a carefully
dressed gentleman with heavy brows and a handsome high nose, who sat
stiffly upright beside the girl, his very bright eyes quite as conscious
of the stricken pedestrian as were hers, vastly different, however, in
this: that they glittered, nay, almost bristled, with hostility; while
every polished button of his blue coat seemed to reflect their malignancy,
and to dart little echoing shafts of venom at Mr. Vanrevel.

Tom was dismayed by the acuteness of his perception that a man who does
not speak to you has no right to have a daughter like the lady in the
carriage; and, the moment of this realization occurring as he sat making a
poor pretence to eat his evening meal at the "Rouen House," he dropped his
fork rattling upon his plate and leaned back, staring at nothing, a
proceeding of which his table-mate, Mr. William Cummings, the editor of
the Rouen Journal, was too busy over his river bass to take note.

"Have you heard what's new in town?" asked Cummings presently, looking up.