Thus, without committing himself by a positive assertion, he led Quentin and the other domestics who were present to infer that he had only just arrived in England, and had left his servant in London to clear his baggage at the Custom-House.
Quentin bowed as he received that answer, and hastened to conduct Mr. Vernon to the drawing-room where Lady Ravensworth was seated.
The widow and her brother-in-law now met for the first time.
Vernon saw before him a young and beautiful woman, very pale, and with a countenance whose expression denoted much suffering—mental rather than physical. It was true that she had only lately become a mother,—that little more than a month had elapsed since she had given birth to an heir to the proud title and broad lands of Ravensworth;—and though the pallor of her face was the natural consequence of so recent an event, yet the physical languor which usually follows also, had given place to a nervousness of manner—a restlessness of body—a rapid wandering of the eyes—and an occasional firm compression of the lips, which indicated an uneasy mind.
Alas! upon that woman's soul lay a crime, heavy and oppressive as a weight of lead! The voice of the murdered Lydia was ever ringing in her ears;—the countenance of the murdered Lydia was ever staring her in the face—ghastly, distorted, and livid in appearance;—the form of the murdered Lydia was ever standing before her! At night the spectre placed itself between the opening of the curtains, and seemed more palpable—more horrible—more substantial in the hours of darkness.
No wonder, then, that her mind was restless—that her manner was nervous—and that her looks were wandering and unsettled!
But let us continue the thread of our narrative, taking it up at the moment when the Honourable Gilbert Vernon entered the apartment where Lady Ravensworth rose to receive him.
Extending her hand towards him, she said, "Welcome to this mansion: it is kind of you to answer so speedily in person the letters which it was my painful duty to address to you at Beyrout."
These words reassured Vernon on one important point: they proved that letters had been sent, conveying the intelligence of his brother's death.
"Accept my gratitude for the cordiality with which you receive me, sister—for such you will permit me to call you," answered Vernon; "and believe me——. But, good God! what ails you? what is the matter, Lady Ravensworth? You are ill—you——"