“Is the fellow really married?” muttered he, as he sat examining the paper. “This document does not seem to me very formal. It is not like the copy of a registry, and, if the marriage were duly solemnised, why is it not stated where it took place?”
He turned to the long letter which accompanied the certificate. It was from Ladarelle, half apologetically, announcing his marriage, and stating that the intelligence could doubtless only prove gratifying to Sir Within, since the object of his choice had so long been the recipient of so many favours from Sir Within himself, and one whose gratitude had already cemented the ties of relationship which bound her to the family. It was long and common-place throughout, and bore to the keen eyes of him who read it the evidence of being written to sustain a fraud.
“There has been no marriage,” said Grenfell, as he closed the letter. “She has been duped and tricked, but how, and to what extent, I know not. If I were to send for Fisk, and tell him that I had just received this letter from his master, the fellow might accord me his confidence, and tell me everything.”
He rang the bell at once, but, when the servant answered the summons, he said that Mr. Fisk had left the Castle with post-horses half an hour before, it was supposed for town.
Ladarelle’s letter finished by saying, “We are off to Paris, where we remain, Hôtel Grammont, Rue Royale, till the 30th; thence we shall probably go south—not quite certain where.”
“No, no, there has been no marriage—not even a mock one. All these details are far too minute and circumstantial, and these messages of ‘my dear wife’ are all unreal. But what can it matter? If the old man should only rally, it is all for the best.”
A knock came to the door. It was Doctor Price. “All is going on favourably. It was shock—only shock of the nervous system—nothing paralytic,” said he; “and he is more concerned to know that his face was not bruised, nor his hands scratched, than anything else. He wishes to see you immediately.”
“Is it quite prudent to go and talk to him just yet?”
“Better than render him irritable by refusing to see him. You will, of course, use your discretion on the topic you discuss with him.”
Grenfell was soon at the sick man’s bedside, none but themselves in the room.