48, and have to lock the
door of your cell when you come out of it, and deliver up your key to
the warder in the hall; but an old-fashioned country establishment
where they cook your breakfast exactly as you like it, and give you
sound ale and a four-poster. At least, so thought Arthur, as he sat in
the private parlour smoking his pipe and reflecting on the curious
vicissitudes of existence. Now, here he was, with all the hopes and
interests of his life utterly changed in a single space of six-and-
twenty hours. Why, six-and-twenty hours ago, he had never met his
respected guardian, nor Sir John and Lady Bellamy, nor Philip and his
daughter. He could hardly believe that it was only that morning that
he had first seen Angela. It seemed weeks ago, and, if time could have
been measured on a new principle, by events and not by minutes, it
would have been weeks. The wheel of life, he thought, revolves with a
strange irregularity. For months and years it turns slowly and
steadily under the even pressure of monotonous events. But, on some
unexpected day, a tide comes rushing down the stream of being, and
spins it round at speed; and then tears onward to the ocean called the
Past, leaving its plaything to creak and turn, to turn and creak, or
wrecked perhaps and useless.
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