“Your surmises are most natural,” said Mr. Vernon, after a few moments’ reflection. “But who, then, was the old woman that came just now? And yet,” he proceeded, “though I spoke of her lightly and irreverently as an old woman, I am bound to admit that there was really a something about her which gave me the idea of one who had seen better days. Her language was especially lady-like and correct. She said she had lived here many years ago—”
“And yet,” interrupted Mrs. Gifford, “the cottage was shut up for nearly eight years after the murder; and then the landlord into whose hands it had fallen, and who was a widower, came and resided here himself, as no one would take it. He occupied it until his death; and then your lord—and then, I mean, you purchased it, sir, together with the garden and orchard attached to it.”
“And what would you infer from all these circumstances?” inquired Mr. Vernon.
“That if the old woman really did live here many years ago, it must have been during Torrens’ time,” explained the housekeeper; “because he built the cottage, and resided in it until the murder; after which, as I just now said, it was shut up for a lengthened period. Now, strange though it may seem, an idea has likewise struck me relative to the old woman—or old lady—”
“And what is your idea!” asked Mr. Vernon.
“That she is that Mrs. Slingsby—or Mrs. Torrens, who got into trouble at the same time as the husband she had just married. If my conjectures are correct, sir, I do not think that you have any cause for apprehension in the two visits which have been paid to the cottage.”
“I congratulate you upon the shrewdness which you have displayed in dealing with the subject,” said Mr. Vernon, smiling; “and I am inclined to adopt the views which your sagacity suggests. Perhaps, then, there is really nothing to fear: but, of course, Mrs. Gifford, you will exercise the utmost prudence and the most unwearying vigilance in regard to my darling child. You know how dear she is to me—you are also acquainted with the unhappy circumstances which force me to condemn her to this seclusion until she shall have attained her twenty-first year—unless,” he added, in a more measured tone, “death shall in the meantime snatch away that woman whom I cannot call my——”
“My lord! my lord!” exclaimed the housekeeper, in an imploring voice; “give not way to recollections which always excite you so painfully! With me your charming Agnes is safe—and you are well aware that I love her as much as if she were my own child! Besides, the deep—the many debts of gratitude which I owe to your lordship——”
“Hush! hush!” interrupted Mr. Vernon; “for again I tell you that the very walls have ears—and I would not that my rank should be even suspected——”
“Pardon me—I forgot your oft-repeated injunctions on that head,” said Mrs. Gifford. “But you must not suppose that because I am thus sometimes oblivious in your presence, I ever allow a single word to slip from my tongue that may create a suspicion in the mind of Miss Agnes or Jane.”