In the meantime, Esther de Medina had thrown herself into a chair, giving way to the wildest paroxysms of grief—the Earl of Ellingham having vainly accosted her with the hope of importing some slight consolation. But, alas! he himself was a prey to the most poignant anguish: and, even had he been more calm, how was it possible to comfort Esther de Medina for the loss—the cruel assassination—of that sister whom she loved so tenderly and so well?
“Thomas,” at length said the Earl, approaching his half-brother, “has Jacob Smith told us the dreadful tale correctly?—and is it—he—Benjamin Bones—who has done this? My God! I have scarcely been able to comprehend all the terrible particulars!”
“It is true—it is too true—I know that it is!” exclaimed Mr. de Medina, shaking his head in despair. “Yes—Tamar is no more; but—at least—let me behold her remains!”
Rainford turned an appealing glance towards Dykes, as much as to say, “You surely will allow me to proceed unwatched and unguarded along with these mourners to the chamber where the corpse lies?”
But Dykes, who understood the meaning of that glance, said in a respectful though firm tone, “I dare not trust you out of my sight!”
“I will be answerable for him, officer!” cried the Earl of Ellingham. “Do you know me? I——”
“I know who you are, my lord,” answered Dykes; “but I cannot oblige you.”
“Is not grief such as that which you now contemplate,” said the nobleman, indicating the weeping father and sister of the deceased lady,—“is not such grief as this too solemn for the intrusion of a stranger?”
“Since your lordship forces me to speak plain,” returned Dykes, “Mr. Rainford is my prisoner on two charges——”
“On two charges!” ejaculated the Earl: then, remembering all that his brother had passed through, he said mournfully, “But, just heavens! one is enough!”