* * * * *
Vavasour had been buried more than a week. Mark and Mary were sitting in the dining-room, Mark at his port and Mary at her work, when the footboy entered.
"Sir, there's a young woman wants to speak with you."
"Show her in, if she looks respectable," said Mark, who had slippers on, and his feet on the fender, and was, therefore, loth to move.
"Oh, quite respectable, sir, as ever I see;" and the lad ushered in a figure, dressed and veiled in deep black.
"Well, ma'am, sit down, pray; and what can I do for you!"
"Can you tell me, sir," answered a voice of extraordinary sweetness and gentleness, very firm, and composed withal, "if Mr. Thomas Thurnall is in Whitbury?"
"Thurnall? He has sailed for the East a week ago. May I ask your business with him? Can I help you in it?"
The black damsel paused so long, that both Mary and her father felt uneasy, and a cloud passed over Mark's brow.
"Can the boy have been playing tricks?" said he to himself.