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his own office。
The citizens of Thorpe Ambrose looked at the closed door； and
gravely shook their heads。 Mr。 Mack had disappointed them。 No
opinion which openly recognizes the frailty of human nature is
ever a popular opinion with mankind。 〃It's as good as saying that
any of _us_ might have married her if _we_ had been Mr。
Armadale's age！〃 Such was the general impression on the minds of
the conclave； when the meeting had been adjourned； and the
members were leaving the station。
The last of the party to go was a slow old gentleman； with a
habit of deliberately looking about him。 Pausing at the door；
this observant person stared up the platform and down the
platform； and discovered in the latter direction； standing behind
an angle of the wall； an elderly man in black； who had escaped
the notice of everybody up to that time。 〃Why； bless my soul！〃
said the old gentleman； advancing inquisitively by a step at a
time； 〃it can't be Mr。 Bashwood！〃
It _was_ Mr。 BashwoodMr。 Bashwood； whose constitutional
curiosity had taken him privately to the station； bent on solving
the mystery of Allan's sudden journey to LondonMr。 Bashwood；
who had seen and heard； behind his angle in the wall； what
everybody else had seen and heard； and who appeared to have been
impressed by it in no ordinary way。 He stood stiffly against the
wall； like a man petrified； with one hand pressed on his bare
head； and the other holding his hathe stood； with a dull flush
on his face； and a dull stare in his eyes； looking straight into
the black depths of the tunnel outside the station； as if the
train to London had disappeared in it but the moment before。
〃Is your head bad？〃 asked the old gentleman。 〃Take my advice。 Go
home and lie down。〃
Mr。 Bashwood listened mechanically； with his usual attention； and
answered mechanically； with his usual politeness。
〃Yes； sir；〃 he said； in a low； lost tone； like a man between
dreaming and waking； 〃I'll go home and lie down。〃
〃That's right；〃 rejoined the old gentleman； making for the door。
〃And take a pill； Mr。 Bashwoodtake a pill。〃
Five minutes later； the porter charged with the business of
locking up the station found Mr。 Bashwood； still standing
bare…headed against the wall； and still looking straight into the
black depths of the tunnel； as if the train to London had
disappeared in it but a moment since。
〃Come； sir！〃 said the porter； 〃I must lock up。 Are you out of
sorts？ Anything wrong with your inside？ Try a drop of
gin…and…bitters。〃
〃Yes；〃 said Mr。 Bashwood； answering the porter； exactly as he had
answered the old gentleman； 〃I'll try a drop of gin…and…bitters。〃
The porter took him by the arm； and led him out。 〃You'll get it
there；〃 said the man； pointing confidentially to a public…house；
〃and you'll get it good。〃
〃I shall get it there；〃 echoed Mr。 Bashwood； still mechanically
repeating what was said to him； 〃and I shall get it good。〃
His will seemed to be paralyzed； his actions depended absolutely
on what other people told him to do。 He took a few steps in the
direction of the public…house； hesitated； staggered； and caught
at the pillar of one of the station lamps near him。
The porter followed； and took him by the arm once more。
〃Why； you've been drinking already！〃 exclaimed the man； with a
suddenly quickened interest in Mr。 Bashwood's case。 〃What was it？
Beer？〃
Mr。 Bashwood； in his low； lost tones； echoed the last word。
It was close on the porter's dinner…time。 But； when the lower
orders of the English people believe they have discovered an
intoxicated man； their sympathy with him is boundless。 The porter
let his dinner take i ts chance； and carefully assisted Mr。
Bashwood to reach the public…house。 〃Gin…and…bitters will put you
on your legs again；〃 whispered this Samaritan setter…right of the
alcoholic disasters of mankind。
If Mr。 Bashwood had really been intoxicated； the effect of the
porter's remedy would have been marvelous indeed。 Almost as soon
as the glass was emptied； the stimulant did its work。 The
long…weakened nervous system of the deputy…steward； prostrated
for the moment by the shock that had fallen on it； rallied again
like a weary horse under the spur。 The dull flush on his cheeks；
the dull stare in his eyes； disappeared simultaneously。 After a
momentary effort； he recovered memory enough of what had passed
to thank the porter； and to ask whether he would take something
himself。 The worthy creature instantly accepted a dose of his own
remedyin the capacity of a preventiveand went home to dinner
as only those men can go home who are physically warmed by
gin…and…bitters and morally elevated by the performance of a good
action。
Still strangely abstracted （but conscious now of the way by which
he went）； Mr。 Bashwood left the public…house a few minutes later；
in his turn。 He walked on mechanically； in his dreary black
garments； moving like a blot on the white surface of the
sun…brightened road； as Midwinter had seen him move in the early
days at Thorpe Ambrose； when they had first met。 Arrived at the
point where he had to choose between the way that led into the
town and the way that led to the great house； he stopped；
incapable of deciding； and careless； apparently； even of making
the attempt。 〃I'll be revenged on her！〃 he whispered to himself；
still absorbed in his jealous frenzy of rage against the woman
who had deceived him。 〃I'll be revenged on her；〃 he repeated； in
louder tones； 〃if I spend every half…penny I've got！〃
Some women of the disorderly sort； passing on their way to the
town； heard him。 〃Ah； you old brute；〃 they called out； with the
measureless license of their class； 〃whatever she did； she served
you right！〃
The coarseness of the voices startled him； whether he
comprehended the words or not。 He shrank away from more
interruption and more insult； into the quieter road that led to
the great house。
At a solitary place by the wayside he stopped and sat down。 He
took off his hat and lifted his youthful wig a little from his
bald old head； and tried desperately to get beyond the one
immovable conviction which lay on his mind like leadthe
conviction that Miss Gwilt had been purposely deceiving him from
the first。 It was useless。 No effort would free him from that one
dominant impression； and from the one answering idea that it had
evokedthe idea of revenge。 He got up again； and put on his hat
and walked rapidly forward a little waythen turned without
knowing why； and slowly walked back again 〃If I had only dressed
a little smarter！〃 said the poor wretch； helplessly。 〃If I had
only been a little bolder with her； she might have overlooked my
being an old man！〃 The angry fit returned on him。 He clinched his
clammy； trembling hands； and shook them fiercely in the empty
air。 〃I'll be revenged on her；〃 he reiterated。 〃I'll be revenged
on her； if I spend every half…penny I've got！〃 It was terribly
suggestive of the hold she had taken on him； that his vindictive
sense of injury could not get far enough away from her to reach
the man whom he believed to be his rival； even yet。 In his rage；
as in his love； he was absorbed； body and soul； by Miss Gwilt。
In a