“Yes!” said Sir Murray, bitterly; “abroad by this time!”
“What, in Heaven’s name, does it all mean?” exclaimed Mrs Elstree, pitifully.
“Mean, madam!” exclaimed Sir Murray, as he strode to the door, and turned to gaze fiercely at all present—“mean? That I married a harlot!”
Changes at Hand.
Everything that could be done in the way of searching was energetically carried out. The lake, every pond, and even many of the water-holes upon the moor were dragged; but no tidings—no trace of Lady Gernon was obtained. McCray had seen her walk across the lawn and disappear behind some shrubs, as he was at work, and that seemed to be the last trace. No one could be found who had seen her pass in any direction; and the topic of conversation in Merland village and the neighbourhood began to change its tone, as people learned how Sir Murray had, for a short time, made inquiries respecting the route taken by Captain Norton, pursuing him, too, for some distance, until he seemed to have disappeared, the information he obtained being of a very vague nature.
But it was very plain to those who took an interest in the affair that Sir Murray Gernon’s endeavours to trace his lady were made in a half-hearted manner. The search in the neighbourhood of the Castle was strenuous enough, but that was due to the exertions of McCray; and when, at the end of a week, people learned that Sir Murray had shut himself up, after discharging half the servants with liberal wages, they raised their eyebrows, and shook their heads, and wondered whether Captain Norton would ever show himself again at the Hall.
As for Jane, she was nearly having a rupture with McCray, upon his giving in his adhesion to the popular feeling; but the matter blew over, and whatever might be her thoughts, she said no more, waiting in expectation of the battle that she felt to be in store for her when, rousing himself once more, Sir Murray should recall her words, and wish to discharge her.
But the day she dreaded did not come; while, to the great disgust of the servants, McCray seemed to be more and more in the confidence of Sir Murray.
“Why don’t he keep to his ‘gairden,’ as he calls it?” said the footman, indignantly; for he felt himself much ill-used, since he had to wear his livery, eat his food, and do nothing at all in return, for the baronet’s simple meals were taken into his room by McCray. Williams, the other footman—Sir Murray’s spy, as Jane indignantly called him—had been amongst the servants first discharged.