The lady perceived what was passing in the mind of Trevelyan; and in a low but fully audible tone, she said, “My lord, circumstances compel me to reveal myself to you as your friend’s mistress. Yes: though I love him more than ever wife could love—yet am I only his mistress,—for, alas! I am the wife of another! And now, my lord,” she added, with deep feeling, “you may spurn me from you—you may command your lacquey to thrust me from your dwelling: but I implore you to give me tidings of Sir Gilbert!”
“Madam,” exclaimed Trevelyan, the moment he could recover from the bewilderment into which this impassioned address plunged him, “not for worlds could I do or say aught to augment year affliction—much less to insult you. I declare to you most solemnly that I have neither heard nor seen anything of Sir Gilbert Heathcote for a week. I called at his chambers in the Albany the day before yesterday, and was simply informed that he was not at home. I left my card without thinking to make further inquiries—not suspecting that his absence had been for days, instead of hours.”
“Oh! yes—upwards of a week has elapsed since I saw him,” exclaimed the lady, with difficulty subduing a fresh outburst of grief. “Each day have I been to the Albany—and still the answer is the same—‘He has not returned!’ No—he has not returned,” she added, clasping her hands together; “and he has not written to me! O God! I fear that some fatal accident has befallen him!”
“Do not give way to such a distressing belief,” cried Trevelyan, feeling deeply for the unfortunate woman, whose grief was so profound and so sincere. “Shall I make inquiries—immediate inquiries—concerning him? Perhaps I may learn more than a lady possibly can.”
“Generous-hearted nobleman!” exclaimed the visitor; “how can I ever repay you for this kindness towards an utter stranger?”
“Remember also, madam,” said Trevelyan, “that, apart from my readiness to serve you or any lady whom affliction has overtaken, I begin to experience some degree of anxiety on behalf of a gentleman who has ever shown a sincere friendship towards me. Not another minute will I delay the inquiries which, alike for your sake and his, I now deem it necessary to institute.”
Thus speaking, the young nobleman rose from his chair.
“My lord,” said the lady, rising also, and speaking in a tone indicative of deep emotion, “may I hope to receive a communication from you as early as possible? My suspense will be great—it is even now intolerable——”
And she burst into tears.
“Madam,” interrupted the young nobleman, profoundly touched by her affliction, which was evidently most unfeigned, “you can either accompany me, or remain here until my return. Perhaps the latter will be the more desirable—at least if you can restrain your impatience, so natural under the circumstances, for a couple of hours. But perhaps,” he added, an idea striking him,—“perhaps you live at some distance——”