breakfast-room, clenching his fist and muttering—Bella, in consternation, asked her what had happened, what was wrong? “I am forbidden to speak to you about it, Bella dear; I mustn’t tell you,” was all the answer she could get. And still, whenever, in her wonder and dismay, she raised her eyes to Mrs. Boffin’s face, she saw in it the same anxious and distressed observation of her own.
Oppressed by her sense that trouble was impending, and lost in speculations why Mrs. Boffin should look at her as if she had any part in it, Bella found the day long and dreary. It was far on in the afternoon when, she being in her own room, a servant brought her a message from Mr. Boffin begging her to come to his.
Mrs. Boffin was there, seated on a sofa, and Mr. Boffin was jogging up and down. On seeing Bella he stopped, beckoned her to him, and drew her arm through his. “Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” he said, gently; “I am not angry with you. Why you actually tremble! Don’t be alarmed, Bella my dear. I’ll see you righted.”
“See me righted?” thought Bella. And then repeated aloud in a tone of astonishment: “see me righted, sir?”
“Ay, ay!” said Mr. Boffin. “See you righted. Send Mr. Rokesmith here, you sir.”
Bella would have been lost in perplexity if there had been pause enough; but the servant found Mr. Rokesmith near at hand, and he almost immediately presented himself.
“Shut the door, sir!” said Mr. Boffin. “I have got something to say to you which I fancy you’ll not be pleased to hear.”
“I am sorry to reply, Mr. Boffin,” returned the Secretary, as, having closed the door, he turned and faced him, “that I think that very likely.”
“What do you mean?” blustered Mr. Boffin.