Lady Montfort listened silently, bending her face over the fountain, and dropping amidst its playful spray the leaves of a rose which she had abstractedly plucked as George was speaking.
“I have, therefore, fulfilled your commission so far,” renewed George Morley. “I have ascertained that Mr. Darrell is alive, and doubtless well; so that it could not have been his ghost that startled you amidst yonder thicket. But I have done more: I have forestalled the wish you expressed to become acquainted with young Haughton; and your object in postponing the accomplishment of that wish while Mr. Darrell himself was in town having ceased with Mr. Darrell’s departure, I have ventured to bring the young man with me. He is in the boat yonder. Will you receive him? Or—but, my dear cousin, are you not too unwell today? What is the matter? Oh, I can easily make an excuse for you to Haughton. I will run and do so.”
“No, George, no. I am as well as usual. I will see Mr. Haughton. All that you have heard of him, and have told me, interests me so much in his favour; and besides—” She did not finish the sentence; but led away by some other thought, asked, “Have you no news of our missing friend?”
“None as yet; but in a few days I shall renew my search. Now, then, I will go for Haughton.”
“Do so; and George, when you have presented him to me, will you kindly join that dear anxious child yonder!
“She is in the new arbour, or near it-her favourite spot. You must sustain her spirits, and give her hope. You cannot guess how eagerly she looks forward to your visits, and how gratefully she relies on your exertions.”
George shook his head half despondingly, and saying briefly, “My exertions have established no claim to her gratitude as yet,” went quickly back for Lionel.
CHAPTER XXIII.
SOMETHING ON AN OLD SUBJECT, WHICH HAS NEVER BEEN SAID BEFORE