“I'm not sure; I don't even know if I shall return at all!” said Norwood, hastily. “I see little profit and less glory in the service! What say you, Morlache? Have they the kind of credit you would like to accept for a loan?”
“No, my Lord,” said the Jew, laughing; “Lombardy scrip would stand low in our market. I 'd rather advance my moneys on the faith of your good friend the Lady Hester Onslow.”
Norwood bit his lip and colored, but made no reply.
“She has crossed into Switzerland, has she not?” asked D'Esmonde, carelessly.
“Gone to England!” said the Viscount, briefly.
“When——how? I never heard of that,” said the Abbé. “I have put off writing to her from day to day, never suspecting that she was about to quit the Continent.”
“Nor did she herself till about a week ago, when Sir Stafford took an equally unexpected departure for the other world—”
“Sir Stafford dead! Lady Hester a widow!”
“Such is, I believe, the natural course of things for a woman to be when her husband dies.”
“A rich widow, too, I presume, my Lord?” said the Abbé, with a quiet but subtle glance at Norwood.