"Why he said, Miss Mary, that he had no right," answered the boy, "he seemed in a great flurry, and as if he did not well know what to do; but he asked if I had seen Sir John in town; for he generally comes to the White Hart, you know; and told me to let him know if I chanced to meet with him in town, because he wanted to speak with him exceedingly. And then he went on that he did not know that he ought to tell him either; for he had got an execution to take to-morrow, here, and to have a writ against him the first thing to-morrow, and a great deal more that I forget. But he said he was very sorry, and would almost give one of his hands not to have it to do. At last he said I was not to tell any body in the town what he had said, but that I might tell Sir John if I saw him, so I came away here, Miss, as soon as I could."
"But where is Captain Hayward to be found, then?" asked Miss Clifford. "You must tell us that before we can make up our minds, William."
"I may as well tell you as take you," replied the boy, "but I must go on before to say you are coming. He is at Ste Gimlet's, with him and my mother, and has been there ever since he shot Mr. Wittingham."
"Oh, I shall not mind going there," cried Isabella, "it will not call for observation from the servants, but if he had been at an inn, it would have been terrible."
Mary Clifford smiled; for she was one of those who valued proprieties nearly at their right worth, if not quite. She never violated them rashly; for no pleasure, or amusement, or mere personal gratification would she transgress rules which society had framed, even though she might think them foolish; but with a great object, a good purpose, and a clear heart, she was ready to set them at nought. "I will go very willingly with you, dear Bella," she said. "Captain Hayward went to London, I know, for the express purpose of providing the means of averting this calamity; but, from some words which he let drop, I fancy he believed that it was not likely to fall upon us so soon. There is no way that I see of aiding your father but by seeing and consulting with this old friend. You said all this would happen early tomorrow, William?" she continued, turning again to the boy.
"As soon as it was light, Miss Mary," replied poor Billy Lamb.
"Oh, Heaven, I will order the carriage directly," said Isabella, "run on, there's a good lad, and let Captain Hayward know I am coming. You can tell him why, and all about it."
The boy retired, and sped away by the shortest paths towards his brother-in-law's cottage. In the mean while the carriage was ordered; but Sir John had got the chariot with him; the barouche had not been out for some time; and the coachman thought fit to dust it. Three-quarters of an hour passed ere the lamps were lighted and all was ready, and then a footman with gold-laced hat in hand stood by the side of the vehicle, to hand the ladies in and accompany them. Isabella, however, told him that he would not be wanted, and gave the order to drive to Stephen Gimlet's cottage.
"Ay!" said the footman, as he turned into the house again, "Billy Lamb's mother is there. Now they'll do the young ladies out of a guinea or two, I'll warrant. What fools women are, to be sure!"
While he thus moralised, the carriage rolled slowly on in the dark night, drawn by two tall pursey horses and driven by a coachman of the same qualities, neither of whom at all approved of being unexpectedly taken out at that hour of the night; for dinner parties were rare in the neighbourhood of Tarningham Park, balls were rarer still, and Sir John Slingsby was much fonder of seeing what he called a set of jolly fellows at his own house than of going out to find them, so that none of his horses were at all accustomed to trot by candlelight. Nearly half an hour more elapsed before the carriage entered the quiet lane unaccustomed to the sound of any wheels but those of a waggon, or a taxed-cart, and at length the reins were drawn in at the door of the cottage. The house looked unpromising; not a light was to be seen, for, strange to say, window-shutters had been put up to every casement of Stephen Gimlet's dwelling, though one would not have supposed him a man addicted to such luxuries. The coachman felt his dignity hurt at having to descend from the box and open the carriage-door, the respectability of the whole family seemed to suffer in his eyes; but, nevertheless, he did it, and as he did so the horses moved on two or three yards, of which Isabella was glad, for she reflected that if the coachman saw into the cottage, he might see the inmates also. Ere she went in, she told him to drive back to the style some two hundred yards down the lane, and if the boy Billy Lamb came over--it was his way from Tarningham Park--to keep him with the carriage. Then, with two hearts which it must be confessed fluttered sadly, Isabella and Mary knocked at the cottage-door, and scarcely waiting for reply opened it in haste and went in. Mary's heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Ned Hayward, as well as at the feeling of taking a somewhat unusual step; but Isabella's flutter was solely on the latter account till the door was open, and then it became worse than ever on another score.