‘My dear friends,’ he answered, with assumed jocularity; ‘one at a time, if you please, and you must prepare yourselves for a disappointment. I haven’t seen her at all! I called twice at the hotel and they were out each time. What else could we expect? I’m afraid I went down on a wild goose chase. Such a lovely day! Where should a bride and bridegroom be but out of doors! I am afraid we must have patience till next week. Then, if Mr Crampton wishes it, I will go down again and make a second attempt to interview them.’
‘Oh, dear, dear; I am disappointed,’ sighed Mrs Crampton; ‘for I feel sure, if you had seen darling Jenny, that all would have been right!’
‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ interposed her husband. ‘How can anything be right again since she has elected to marry that scoundrel? The jade has made her own bed, and she may lie on it, and I hope it’ll be a deuced hard one, too!’
‘Don’t say that,’ replied Henry Hindes, quickly; ‘if it should be hard it is not you that will make it so! I scribbled a line to her on my card to say I had brought her a message from home, so, if I am not very much mistaken, you will receive another letter from her before long.’
‘Dear Mr Hindes, how can we ever thank you enough for the trouble you have taken on our behalf,’ said Mrs Crampton, as she slid her slender hand in his; ‘you are the truest and best friend we have. God bless you!’
But he could not stand the gentle pressure of her hand, nor the grateful intonation of her voice.
‘Don’t speak about it, please!’ he answered, pulling his hand out of hers almost roughly; ‘I wish—I wish I could have done more, but—but—Come! Hannah!’ he exclaimed, interrupting himself; ‘we must go home! It is late, and my two journeys have tired me. Good-night, Mrs Crampton! Good-night to everybody! we must leave the further discussion of the matter to another time,’ and, with a hasty nod all round, he left the room.
He did appear very tired when they reached their home, very exhausted and overdone, but his condition did not tend to give him a good night’s rest. On the contrary, long after Hannah had sunk into the dreamless sleep which waits on a good conscience joined to a good digestion, her unhappy husband lay wide awake staring into the darkness, and starting at every shadow that lurked in the corners of the room.
CHAPTER VIII.
Amongst Frederick Walcheren’s varied accomplishments, swimming held a prominent position. From a child he had exercised this most useful of all practices, until he was as much at home in the water as on land. And on that fatal Saturday there was every inducement for him to spend a long time in his favourite occupation. The day was transcendently beautiful; the sea was sparkling with electricity and warm as a tepid bath; and the beach was crowded with spectators, eager to watch and applaud the various feats of natation which he performed. He was in good temper with himself and the world, poor fellow! and anxious to give them all the pleasure in his power. So he remained in the warm, exhilarating water as long as possible, performing all sorts of extraordinary dives and plunges and strange modes of swimming, whilst the people on the shore were full of admiration for his skill. At last he felt he had had about enough of it for the present, and dressed to return to the hotel. As he descended the steps of his machine, a young man of ordinary appearance, who was apparently waiting for him, came forward.