"Who do you mean by they?" demanded Morley.
"Why, the old 'milord', and the lady, and the beautiful young lady, and all--maids and servants and couriers, and all," answered the host.
"Are you sure they are the persons I mean?" said Morley with the last faint hope struggling up.
"I will shew you their names in the book," rejoined the innkeeper; and, taking him into a small room at the side of the passage, he opened a huge book before him, and pointed to a long string of names, half way down the page.
Morley read, but he soon saw enough, for there stood the words--"Lord Clavering, Lady Malcolm, Juliet Carr." He turned away in, silence, with his heart full of bitter thoughts, and, taking his way back to the inn, he gave but one order--"Let everything be prepared for departure."
"Do you know, sir," said Adam Gray, after hesitating for a moment or two--"do you know, sir, that Miss Juliet is here? I saw her maid this morning, in the street, and I did fancy that note came from her--"
Morley waved his hand impatiently, and the old man stopped. "She is gone," replied Morley Ernstein; "do as I told you, Adam."
"Will you not take breakfast, sir?" demanded the old servant, with a wistful look in his master's face.
"No, no!" answered Morley, impatiently; and Adam Gray quitted the room. He paused musing at the door, however, laying his finger upon his bald forehead, and muttering to himself--
"If I was sure it was she who is making him miserable--I would--that I would! But she never seemed to have any pride in her. What right had she, indeed? But I can't think it's her doing; she was always a good, kind young lady, as ever lived, and I am sure I thought she was fond enough of Master Morley, as well she might be. She wont find such another match in a hurry. But I'll watch, and see; she may be playing the fool after all, for there's no knowing about women--they are so devilish uncertain."