conveyed his message by the gloom of his countenance.

"Has anything, gone wrong?" David inquired, anxiously, as they entered
their room.

Casting himself heavily into a seat and answering abstractedly, Mantel
replied, "Each new day of life renders it more inexplicable. A man no
sooner forms a theory than he is compelled to abandon it. I fear it is a
labyrinth from which we shall none of us escape."

"Do not speak in parables," David exclaimed, impatiently, "If anything
is the matter, tell me at once. Do not leave me in suspense. I cannot
endure it. Is he worse? Is he dying?"

"He is both, and more," Mantel answered, still unable to escape from the
gloom which enveloped him.

"More? What more? Speak out. I cannot bear these indirections."

"I have at last drawn from him a brief but terrible allusion to the
tragedy of your lives."

"What did he say? Quick, tell me!"

"He said that he had been wronged by those whom he had benefited."

"It is too true, God knows; but what else did he say?"

"That he would spend eternity in revenging his wrongs."