“Has been practising upon the weakness of that pretty little lass of ours—Fanny. He has gone up to town, and she promised him to follow. Go and stop her at any cost. Then send for her brother, and let him know the truth; and if he follows and thrashes—What?”
“The girl has gone,” said Aunt Sophia.
“Gone?”
“She asked Kate for a holiday, and went this afternoon. She was to be back to-morrow night.”
“Good heavens!” cried Scarlett. “I would sooner have given a thousand pounds.—What is it, Jack?”
“Nothing—only this—so sad!” said the doctor hoarsely, as he sat where he had literally dropped—into a chair.
“What is to be done?” cried Scarlett excitedly. “Here, send for William Cressy. Let a man gallop over at once.”
“Yes, I’ll send,” said the doctor; and he literally staggered out of the room. “Am I really out of my senses?” he said to himself as he hurried down. “Have I been blundering all this time; or is it a ruse of the poor fellow to throw us off the truth?—Good heavens! what am I to think!” he ran into the study and rang the bell loudly, when Martha Betts came into the room at once in her calm grave way.
“Can you find the gardener—Monnick,” he said, “quickly.”
“Yes, sir.”