“I distrust this handwriting, and suspect a ruse. In case I do
not return, send for Hargrave, Sandys, Godfrey, as witnesses to
my sanity, and storm the fair one’s fortress in person. A. B.”
“It is not my Aurelia’s writing,” said the Major. “Bravest of friends, what has he not dared on her account!”
“This is too much!” cried Mr. Wayland, striving in horror against his convictions. “I cannot hear my beloved wife loaded with monstrous suspicions in her absence!”
“I am sorry to say this is no new threat ever since poor Belamour has crossed her path,” said the Major.
“What have you done, sir!” asked Sir Amyas.
“I fear I have but wasted time,” said the Major. “I have been to Hanover Square, and getting no admittance there, I came back in the hope you might be on the track with Betty—as, thank God, you were! The first thing to be done now is to find what she has done with Belamour,” he added, rising up.
“That must fall to my share,” said Mr. Wayland, pale and resolute. “Come with me, Amyas, your young limbs will easily return before the effect of the narcotic has passed, and I need fuller explanation.”
Stillness than came on the Delavie party. The Major went up stairs, and sat by Aurelia’s bed gazing with eyes dazzled with tears at the child he had so longed to see, and whom he found again in this strange trance. A doctor came, and quite confirmed Mr. Wayland’s opinion, that the drug would not prove deleterious, provided the sleep was not disturbed, and Betty continued her watch, after hearing what her father knew of Mr. Belamour. She was greatly struck with the self-devotion that had gone with open eyes into so dreadful a snare as a madhouse of those days rather than miss the least chance of saving Aurelia.
“If we go by perils dared, the uncle is the true knight-errant,” said she to her father. “I wonder which our child truly loves the best!”
“Betty!” said her father, scandalised.