"Do not weep thus; pray, do not weep," he said with much feeling, leaning one hand on the back of the couch on which she sat. "I will sift this to the bottom; there must be treachery somewhere—but where? and why?" He read Mary Burns's letter to Minnie carefully over. "Where is this girl?" he asked; "can she be false, for some demoniacal motive?"
"I do not think so: I would she were returned. Pray, let me hear the contents of the letter you received—I cannot read it." Lord Randolph hastened to obey; it merely contained a few hurried lines, as if written in trouble, imploring him to meet the writer at the place indicated, at a friend of hers, as she had something of importance to communicate, and begging secresy to all. It was signed "M. T., Chiswick," adding in a N.B.—"Inquire for me; you know my name. Should I not have arrived, ask to be shewn to the drawing-room, and wait."
Minnie's tears fell thick and fast, her terror was so great. She felt she must be surrounded by enemies, and the worst, hidden ones—he was leaning forward, endeavouring to soothe, to guide, and counsel, where he himself felt so much in the dark: as he sat beside the weeping woman, the door opened quietly, and the servant looked in. "There was a gentleman there," she said, "wanting to look at the apartments which were to let, might she show them? Her mistress left orders for her to do so, when she was out." As she spoke, with an apparently innocent manner she flung open the door to the person, who stood behind her. A wolf driven to despair for food dares all—so will a coward for revenge.
Marmaduke Burton stepped into the room—Lord Randolph sprang from the sofa, and Minnie in alarm, without reflection, lowered her veil.
"I beg ten thousand pardons, Mrs. Tremenhere," he cried, starting back as if in surprise. "I was little aware I should meet you here! I beg ten thousand pardons," and he drew back.
"Sir!" exclaimed Lord Randolph with hauteur, "your presence here solves the enigma of the forged letters, which have brought Mrs. Tremenhere and myself hither, but it is not here you must answer for it."
"I do not comprehend you, Lord Randolph," he answered, advancing; "we mistake each other, doubtless. I have known the lady of this house from childhood; and, being commissioned by a friend to seek apartments for him, I deemed it an act of kindness to benefit her, if possible, knowing how circumscribed her means are; and her troubles, I grieve to say, occasioned by an unworthy relative of my own."
He said this, not feeling positive that Minnie might not be shaken enough to doubt her husband's veracity about his (Burton's) seduction of the girl; it might do good any way, and materially change Lord Randolph's opinion of, and consequent interest in, Tremenhere.
"Oh, it is untrue!" cried Minnie, starting up, forgeting every thing but the slander of her husband. "Do not believe that man, my lord—ask Mary herself. Miles has been as a brother to her; and shame—oh! shame on the base tongue which proclaims the wrongs of his victim!"
"I see, madam," answered Burton, "that your old and natural prejudice against me has nothing abated; and I make no doubt, even my truly good motive in visiting this house will be misconstrued by you."