Felix looked at Olivia, she at him. It seemed to me that they grew a shade paler. I wondered whether any guilty bond existed between them, as certainly they seemed to understand one another very well. Olivia appeared anxious to protect Felix from harm. Either she really believed him to be Francis, or had taken her heart from one brother and given it to the other. It was she who spoke first in and throughout the interview; the woman played a more daring game than did the man. Her attitude puzzled me, and for the moment I was quite in the dark as to what were her real thoughts regarding my story and that of the pseudo Francis.
"We cannot go to-night," she said, with some hesitation, "but tomorrow morning, if you like, we will ride out to the inn."
I glanced at my watch.
"It is now five o'clock," said I; "and will be light up to nine or thereabouts. There is plenty of time for us to ride to the Fen Inn, and I think it advisable to do so at once."
"Why not to-morrow morning?" objected Felix.
"Great Heavens, Briarfield! have you no natural affection? Don't I tell you that your brother is lying dead there? Can't you understand the necessity of attending to so serious a matter without delay? If you have no affection, you might at least have decency."
"I decline to believe that my brother is dead," said Briarfield coolly; "that letter shown to you by Olivia proves that he was in Paris yesterday. He could not have come over so quickly, and, besides, would have no reason to go to the Fen Inn."
"Of course, if you insist upon assuming your brother's name, I can say nothing, but I know the truth, and had it from the lips of Francis."
"What do you mean?" asked Olivia.
"I mean that Francis returned from Chili a few days ago and went to the Fen Inn by appointment in order to hear the explanation of Felix."