“Perhaps I should; but it has been, from the very beginning, such a strange, melancholy affair, so unlikely ever to turn out happily, that I have felt a strong repugnance to speak of it to any one; and even now I must beg you not to mention it to Fanny, at all events till my last act in the business is performed, and Mr. Frampton takes the matter into his own hands.”
“After all,” rejoined Oaklands, “I feel there must be some mistake; she never can be false to you—never love that villain Wilford. Oh, Frank! how can you bear to doubt her?”
“It is indeed misery to do so,” replied I, sighing deeply; “and yet, when one's reason is convinced, it is weakness to give way to the suggestions of feeling.”
“If Fanny were to prove false to me, I should lie down and die,” exclaimed Oaklands vehemently.
“You might wish to do so,” replied I; “but grief does not always kill; if it did, in many cases it would lose half its bitterness.”
A look was his only answer, and we parted for the night.
Daylight the next morning found me again in the saddle, and I reached the little inn by eight o'clock. On my arrival, I despatched a messenger to old Peter Barnett, telling him I wished to see him, and then, determining that I would not allow myself to hope, only again to be disappointed, I rang for breakfast, and set resolutely to work to demolish it; in which I succeeded very respectably, merely stopping to walk round the room and look out of the window between every second mouthful. At length my envoy returned, with a message to the effect that Mr. Barnett would come down in the course of the morning, but that I was by no means to go away without seeing him, and that he hoped I would be careful not to show myself, as the enemy were out in great force, and all the sentries had been doubled.
“What does he mean by that?” inquired I of the boy who delivered the message—an intelligent little urchin, who was evidently well up in the whole affair, and appeared highly delighted at the trust reposed in him, to say nothing of the harvest of sixpences his various missions produced him.
“Vy, sir, he means that the gamekeeper has had two extra assistants allowed him since you vos there the other day, sir, and they has strict orders to take hup anybody as they finds in the park, sir.”
“They need not alarm themselves,” replied I; “I shall not intrude upon their domain again in a hurry. Now look out, and let me know when Peter Barnett is coming.”