"Via, the
curtain that shadowed Borgia!--But how now, my lord?" he continued,
when he observed Lord Glenvarloch was really distressed at the
degrading change in his situation, "I trust you are not offended at my
rattling folly? I would but reconcile you to your present
circumstances, and give you the tone of this strange place. Come,
cheer up; I trust it will only be your residence for a very few days."
Nigel was only able to press his hand, and reply in a whisper, "I am
sensible of your kindness. I know I must drink the cup which my own
folly has filled for me. Pardon me, that, at the first taste, I feel
its bitterness."
Reginald Lowestoffe was bustlingly officious and good-natured; but,
used to live a scrambling, rakish course of life himself, he had not
the least idea of the extent of Lord Glenvarloch's mental sufferings,
and thought of his temporary concealment as if it were merely the
trick of a wanton boy, who plays at hide-and-seek with his tutor. With
the appearance of the place, too, he was familiar--but on his
companion it produced a deep sensation.
The ancient Sanctuary at Whitefriars lay considerably lower than the
elevated terraces and gardens of the Temple, and was therefore
generally involved in the damps and fogs arising from the Thames. The
brick buildings by which it was occupied, crowded closely on each
other, for, in a place so rarely privileged, every foot of ground was
valuable; but, erected in many cases by persons whose funds were
inadequate to their speculations, the houses were generally
insufficient, and exhibited the lamentable signs of having become
ruinous while they were yet new.
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