‘And why—why, may I ask, have we been left—have we never heard this before?’
His voice shook, as he thought of all the misery to himself and his wife that might have been spared, as well as the danger of the child. Rose hesitated, doubting how much she ought to say, and Mr. Deyncourt came out.
‘May I introduce myself?’ said Frank, hoping for an auxiliary,—‘Lord Northmoor. I have just heard that Miss Rollstone thinks she saw my little boy in the London train the day he disappeared; and I am trying to understand whether there is really any hope that she is right, and that we can recover him.’
Mr. Deyncourt was infinitely surprised, and spoke a few words of wonder that this had not been made known. Rose found it easier to speak to him.
‘I saw Louisa Hall with him; I did not know she was not still his maid. I thought she had
been sent to take him somewhere. And when I heard from home that he—he was—drowned, I only thought the likeness had deceived me. It was not till Mr. Morton came home, and we talked it over, that I understood that Louisa Hall was dismissed long ago, and was eloping to Canada.
‘And then,’ for she had spoken falteringly, and with an effort, as their sounds of inquiry elicited each sentence—‘and then, Mr. Morton said he would follow her to Canada. He did not want Lady Northmoor to be tortured with uncertainty.’
‘Very strange,’ said the gentlemen one to the other, Lord Northmoor adding—
‘Thank you, Miss Rollstone; I will not detain you, unless you can tell me more.’
Rose was glad to be released, though pained and vexed not to dare to express her reasons for full certainty.