"Ah, you won't trust me," said Richard, in a sad tone. "I wonder why it is people will not trust me. I can be as faithful and true as any one."
"Indeed, I would trust you willingly," replied Smeaton, "with anything that is merely my own; but this secret I ought not to divulge either to you or to this dear lady."
"Well, then, I'll try you," said Richard. "Are you, or are you not, the Earl of Eskdale?"
"I am," replied Smeaton, at once. "I tell you, without the slightest hesitation, Richard; but I beg you not to divulge the fact till I have taken measures to effect my safety."
"I was sure of it," cried Richard. "I was quite sure of it. Poor colonels of horse don't have such beautiful swords to give away; and, besides, I suppose, there is something in a lord makes him different from other men. None of you have two heads, I think, nor four arms, nor eight legs; but yet, lack-a-day, there must be some difference; for I said to myself, soon after you came here, 'That man is different from the rest of them.'"
Emmeline looked up in Smeaton's face with a smile, while her cousin spoke, as if she would fain have said--
"I thought so too."
She spoke not, however, and Richard ran out of the room in his wild way to see what all the servants were "making of it," as he termed it. During his absence, which did not last many minutes, words of mutual tenderness were of course uttered by the lovers; but other matters were also to be spoken of besides their young affection, and Smeaton communicated to Emmeline all that had transpired between himself and old Mrs. Culpepper, expressing, at the same time, his belief that she might be fully trusted.
The evening then passed quietly for more than an hour; at the end of which time the trampling of horses and the voice of Sir John Newark were heard. He did not come into the small saloon for several minutes after he had entered the house; and, somewhat to Smeaton's surprise, neither Emmeline nor Richard Newark went out to greet him. But they knew him and his ways better than Smeaton did. The interval was occupied in speaking a few words to Mrs. Culpepper, which seemed to be rather those of inquiry than anything else; but the replies he received were apparently satisfactory, and he entered the saloon with a pleasant and half-laughing air. The whole circumstances of the evening were discussed, he gave his own version of what had occurred, both at Exeter and at Aleton, he inquired minutely into the events which had taken place at the Manor House during his absence, and he ended by saying--
"Well, Colonel, this is a fortunate escape from that which might have proved to be a somewhat unpleasant affair, and the mistake these men have fallen into regarding the flight of the Earl of Eskdale, who has never fled from them at all, will put you quite at your ease, for some time, and save you, I trust, from farther annoyance."