“I hope not,” he added, with something like melancholy foreboding in his tone, for he remembered at the time the sad events which had so recently taken place.
It was evident enough from his mother’s manner that she had some inkling of the part he had been playing in the dark drama on the continent—albeit she wisely forbore from alluding directly to it.
She was concerned and troubled about something—what this was Lord Ethalwood could only surmise.
After paying his respects to his father-in-law he returned to Broxbridge Hall, which has been the stage upon which so many scenes of our drama have been enacted.
At Broxbridge he was, in a great measure, secluded from a host of acquaintances who, at that particular time, he was not anxious to meet.
Mr. Jakyl, full of years and servitude, was still the majordomo of the establishment; he appeared to be as devoted to his young master as he was to the late earl.
Jakyl was at this time a very old man; he had the same soft, respectful, unobtrusive manner as of yore; indeed, these qualities were even more apparent in his declining years—if this were possible.
The slightest hint given by Lord Ethalwood was considered law by his faithful and venerable servitor, and it afforded the old domestic a considerable amount of pleasure and satisfaction at beholding the earl return to his ancestral home.
Mr. Jakyl was not at all demonstrative—was never gushing, but those who knew him best were at no loss to comprehend when he was pleased or otherwise.
Lord Reginald, after his return to Broxbridge, remained for a considerable time secluded.