Upon entering the house of his hostess, Lord Ethalwood put a bold face on the matter, and succeded in being as cheerful and pleasant as heretofore, but, despite this, an air of melancholy seemed to hover over the little household.
Theresa said but little. She, however, ever and anon cast inquiring looks at the earl, who at such times whispered words of comfort in her ear.
It was not possible for him to determine whether any of them suspected that he had seen Gerome Chanet. If they did they were remarkably silent on the subject, and never in any way alluded to the young mountaineer.
When he retired to his chamber Madame Trieste bade him farewell as if he had been a traveller setting forth upon a journey from which he would in all probability never return. She kissed him affectionately on the forehead, and was more than usually demonstrative in her expressions of friendship.
Theresa had at this time betaken herself to her own apartment.
The earl was a little puzzled at the widow’s altered demeanour, but he said nothing beyond responding to the good wishes she expressed.
He was, as may be readily imagined, in no very enviable frame of mind, and on reaching his chamber he looked at his watch, and found that the night had not passed away.
He opened the window of his sleeping chamber, and looked out at the sky. The thought crossed his mind that possibly it might be the last night he had to pass in this world, and this was not a very agreeable reflection.
How different was the aspect of the sky on which his eyes now rested!
And oh, how different the circumstances! Instead of being lit by myriads of stars, the heavens were as sombre as his own thoughts. Nature seemed, as it were, shrouding itself in a mantle of darkness.