"At all events, Whittingham," said Markham, "do you return to the kitchen, get into conversation with the man, and then give us your opinion."
The old butler withdrew to execute these orders.
Markham then began to pace the room in an agitated manner.
"I cannot think who could be cruel enough to practise such a vile cheat upon me," he said, "if a cheat it really be. No one would benefit himself by so doing. Besides—the man spoke of the appointment which my brother made when we parted on yonder hill; he spoke of that appointment as a token of his sincerity—as a proof of the veracity of his statement—as an evidence that he came direct from Eugene!"
"Many persons are acquainted with the fact of that appointment," said Ellen. "There is not an individual in this neighbourhood who is ignorant of the meeting that is named for the 10th of July, 1843, between the ash-trees on that hill."
"True!" exclaimed Markham. "The mere mention of that appointment is scarcely a sufficient evidence. And yet my brother might deem that it would prove sufficient: Eugene may not know how suspicious the deceits of this world are calculated to render the mind that has been their victim."
"I have no doubt that Eugene is by this time as well acquainted with the world as you can be, Richard," persisted Ellen; "and I am also convinced that if he were to send such a message to you as this stranger has brought—making an appointment at a strange place and at a very lonely hour—he would have been careful to accompany it with some undeniable token of its genuineness."
"You reason sensibly, Ellen," said Markham; "and yet I am by no means inclined to surrender up the hope that was just now so consoling to my heart—wounded as that heart is by many misfortunes!"
"I reason consistently with your interests," returned Ellen. "Nothing could persuade me that your brother would fail to write a line to you in such a case as this is represented to be."
"What say you, Mr. Monroe?" inquired Richard.