His information, Walter, amounted to thus much—that in the passage he had seen the gentleman who occupied the land-lady's best parlour; and that this gentleman, of whom Griffiths had had a very distinct view, certainly was, or Griffiths was much deceived, the very identical spright who reminded some of us of our devotions in the narrow passage of the west tower at Valmont castle. ''Tis impossible!' said I.
'My Lord, 'tis true,' said Griffiths. I should know him among a thousand. I know his eyes and nose as well as I know your's, my Lord.'
This you will allow, Walter, was but a very vague sort of a supposition to ground any belief upon; for, as eyes and noses are the common lot of all mankind, it may happen now and then that two or more may be greatly alike. Yet, so diligent is hope and imagination, I could not persuade myself these eyes and this nose had any owner but the spright of the castle.—It was Miss Valmont and her hermit, my fancy said. I blessed my stars. I cursed my stars. I wondered how and why they should come hither. Then, I remembered, that fancy, though sometimes a prophetess, is rarely an oracle, and I thought it might not be Miss Valmont and her hermit.—I consulted much with Griffiths; and, at length, had recourse to the waiter, a dapper shabby-coated fellow with a wooden leg.
They came, he said, on horseback before seven o'clock. A man, who conducted them, did not alight. They were impatient to be gone. They waited for a chaise. They had ordered a breakfast which neither of them had tasted. The lady did not appear, he thought, equipped for travelling. The gentleman was melancholy, and the lady restless and agitated.
Miss Valmont: whispered I to myself.
'They are a fine couple,' said the waiter.
I asked if he thought they were a married pair. He answered, he was sure she must be a married lady. I enquired if the gentleman seemed to be very fond of her.
'Not at all,' replied the waiter. 'The gentleman sits writing, Sir, with his back to her. She walks about the room, muttering to herself. When I carried in the breakfast, he leaned his head against the wall, and groaned with his eyes shut.'
It cannot be Miss Valmont and her hermit, thought I.
'Is the lady handsome?' I asked.