As Arabella expected, the poor girl's eyes were instantly lighted up with joy; and, in her eager Italian manner, she declared that she would go down upon her knees to him, and kiss his hand a thousand times, for having befriended her in the hour of need, and placed her with a lady whom she could love so well. The girl Marian listened with somewhat of a curling lip; and, though she did not venture to make any comment aloud, in her heart she called the poor Italian's warm expressions of gratitude and attachment "nothing but flattery and servility."
It was about five o'clock on the evening of the following day that, after having deposited the girl Marian safely at her father's house, the carriage containing Arabella wound up the little road which led to the mansion of Sir Harry West. Passing by the garden gate, it proceeded to the great doors; and there the bell was rung; but for some minutes no one came to answer its summons. At length old Lakyn and another man appeared, and if Arabella had remarked their faces, she would have seen that both were somewhat grave. But she took no heed to their looks, and merely said, "Sir Harry has returned, I suppose. Is he within?"
"Yes, lady," replied Lakyn, "he is within. He has not been out all day; for he feels somewhat unwell."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Arabella, in a grieved tone. "Is he in bed?"
"No, my lady, he is in the hall," answered Lakyn.
"Oh, then, I will go and try to cheer him," replied the lady. "Come, Ida Mara, it will do him good to hear that you are happy with me;" and stepping out of the carriage, followed by the girl, with a light step, she walked quickly along the passage before the servants, and opened the door of the old hall.
Though it was the month of July, a large fire was blazing in the chimney; and seated beside it, with his head resting on his hand, appeared Sir Harry West, wrapped in a large cloak of sables. His face was very pale, and his eyes bright and fiery, with a dark line beneath them. The heaviness of severe sickness was evidently upon him; but the moment the Lady Arabella appeared, he started up and took a step or two towards her, then paused and said, "Lakyn, you should not have done this. Dear lady, I am ill!--Do not come too near. It may be infectious."
"Oh, I am not afraid," replied Arabella, advancing and taking his hand, which felt dry and burning. "What is the matter, dear Sir Harry?" she continued; "we have come to comfort and console you."
"Nay, nay," cried the knight, drawing his hand quickly away, and retreating a step: "I cannot have you stay here, dear lady. Through a long life I have never felt as I feel now; and I fear that this may be even worse than it seems. You must go on with all speed; and stop not at the village; the landlord of the inn is lying sick--of the plague, they tell me. I saw him the day before yesterday, and he was then past hope."
"He is dead, sir," said Lakyn, who had lingered at the door; "I wish to Heaven you would take some antidote!"