at you, my boy, for the folks are gone out of court' for a bit."
Adam's heart beat so violently, he was unable to speak—he could only return the pressure of his friend's hand; and Bartle, drawing up the other chair, came and sat in front of him, taking off his hat and his spectacles.
"That's a thing never happened to me before," he observed—"to go out o' door with my spectacles on. I clean forgot to take 'em off."
The old man made this trivial remark, thinking it better not to respond at all to Adam's agitation: he would gather, in an indirect way, that there was nothing decisive to communicate at present.
"And now," he said, rising again, "I must see to your having a bit of the loaf, and some of that wine Mr Irwine sent this morning. He'll be angry with me if you don't have it. Come now," he went on, bringing forward the bottle and the loaf, and pouring some little into a cup, "I must have a bit and a sup myself. Drink a drop with me, my lad—drink with me."
Adam pushed the cup gently away, and said entreatingly, "Tell me about it, Mr Massey—tell me all about it. Was she there? Have they begun?"
