And with these words the faithful dependant took his departure, not a little delighted to think that there was at least one person in the world who believed in the innocence of "Master Richard." In fact, the kindness of Diana's manner and the sincerity with which she had expressed herself on that point, effectually wiped away from the mind of the butler the reminiscences of Mac Chizzle's derogatory suspicions, and Suggett's impertinence.
After a few minutes' profound reflection, Diana returned to the drawing-room, where Sir Rupert Harborough, Mr. Chichester, and Talbot were seated.
Her fine countenance wore an expression of melancholy seriousness; and there was a nervous movement of the under lip that denoted the existence of powerful emotions in her bosom.
"Well, Di.," exclaimed the baronet; "you seem annoyed."
"You will be surprised, gentlemen, when I inform you who has been here," she said, resuming her seat upon the sofa.
"Indeed!" cried Chichester, turning pale: "who could it be?"
"Not an officer, I hope?" exclaimed the baronet.
"The chimley-sweeps, perhaps," suggested Mr. Talbot.
"A person from Mr. Markham," said Diana, seriously. "By his appearance I should conceive him to be the faithful old servant of his family, of whom I have heard him speak."
"Whittingham, I'll be bound!" ejaculated Chichester. "And what did he want?"