The postchaise was once more brought into requisition, and the chevalier drove his friend home—or rather to the widow’s abode, where he had taken up his quarters. When the vehicle arrived in front of the garden-gate, the earl alighted and begged the chevalier to enter the house that he might be introduced to the inmates.
The chevalier, however, politely declined.
“No,” said he, “not now. I will be introduced to Madame Trieste on some other occasion—this certainly cannot be considered a favourable one. No, my lord, I will leave you now, and hope to see you some time to-morrow. Be of good cheer, and do not let this little affair dash your spirits, and so farewell for the present.”
The two gentlemen shook hands, and De Monpres drove off.
CHAPTER CXXIX.
AFTER THE TRAGEDY.
Lord Ethalwood had some misgivings respecting the inmates of the chateau he was about to enter. He did not know very well what to say to the widow or her daughter. Being perfectly well assured the fatal deed would be the subject of conversation with everybody in the neighbourhood, and that the whole circumstances would on the following day become known to Theresa and her mother, it was not possible for him to remain silent on the subject. He therefore stood irresolute at the garden gate, not knowing very well what course to take.
To all appearance the inmates of the establishment had retired to rest, for he could not see any light gleam from the window of the sitting-room, and all was as silent as the grave.
The earl at this time felt like some guilty wretch who had returned red-handed from the perpetration of an act of violence.
He strove as best he could to muster an air of intrepidity to his brow, but his heart beat audibly as he passed into the little garden surrounding the house. He observed the faint glimmer of light over the doorway; this proceeded from the small window above the entrance.