The matter, however, was quite sufficiently interesting to make three quarters of an hour pass unnoticed; and at the end of that time a servant appeared to inform them that, as the body of the unhappy gipsy could not be found, Lord Dewry did not intend to intrude upon them again, and that he had only to request that due information of the death of Sir Roger Millington might be given to the coroner.
The magistrates received the message--probably as it was intended--as a hint that their further presence at Dimden was not desired. Mr. Arden laughed, and declared that he would take care to tease his lordship for his want of courtesy, by asking him unpleasant questions whenever he met him; but Mr. Simpson, on the contrary, looked grave and sad, and as he parted with his fellow-magistrates declared his intention of withdrawing from his official duties. "I should never," he said, "be able to remove from my mind the impression of that unfortunate gipsy's fate, and I should fear that it might have some effect upon the execution of my duty in future."
[CHAPTER XIII.]
Day had waned, night had overshadowed the world several hours, and Mrs. Falkland, with Marian, had long left the house in which Edward de Vaux lay ere any sounds intimated that the master of the mansion had returned. Anxious, bewildered, and impatient, De Vaux lay sleepless till ten o'clock, when the rapid rush of rolling wheels, and the quick footfalls of the horses, as they passed his window, told him that he whom he expected had arrived.
A few minutes elapsed without his appearance in the sick man's room, however, and, with his characteristic impatience, De Vaux concluded that "the fools had said he was asleep," and was sending to declare the contrary, when the door was quietly opened, and the person he wished for approached his bedside.
"I am most happy to see you, my dear sir," said De Vaux, looking up in the fine bland countenance that was bent over him, "for I cannot sleep--I cannot rest--till I ask you who, who is it that I see?"
"Ah! I perceive that your aunt has betrayed me," said Lord Dewry. "She recognised me instantly this morning; but I laid strict injunctions upon her, for many reasons, to keep my secret with you till I returned. But I expected more than was reasonable. There is a proverb against a woman keeping a secret."
"No, no," said De Vaux: "she did not exactly betray you. She let a few words accidentally fall, that only served to rouse my curiosity, which she then refused to satisfy."
"And what said Marian?" demanded the other, with a smile.
"Oh, she said nothing on the subject," replied De Vaux, "but she looked happier than I ever beheld her; and that too seemed to confirm some vague surmises which my aunt's words had called up. But yet I cannot believe it--it is impossible--I knew you myself as Sir William Ryder in America--every one knew you by that name there--and I cannot believe the wild fancy that has taken possession of me."