“I am positive, my lord,” replied the man; then, after a pause, he observed, “I hope nothing unpleasant has occurred, my lord?”
“Yes—no—you may retire,” said the nobleman, abstractedly; and, when the domestic had left the room, he threw himself into a chair, overcome with amazement and grief at the mysterious circumstance that had occurred.
Could Mrs. Sefton have taken the letter? No: the idea was ridiculous. She was too much absorbed in her own sorrows to have leisure for the gratification of an idle and impertinent curiosity. Besides, was she a common thief?—for, let a lady be possessed with ever so prying a disposition, she would not carry her mania to such a point as to steal a letter—a sealed letter—unless she were absolutely dishonest and unprincipled. Surely this could not be the character of the woman whom he had seen in such deep affliction that evening,—a woman who was assuredly what she had represented herself to be, and whose appearance, manners, and language all forbade the idea that she was an abandoned wretch.
“No—I wrong her by entertaining such an injurious suspicion even for an instant!” thought Lord William, when those reflections had passed through his brain. “It is impossible that this afflicted lady can have taken my letter. Besides, had she done so, would she have waited until my return? And again, of what use—of what benefit could the letter be to her?”
He glanced around, and beheld several articles of value lying about in their accustomed places. He had gone out in such a hurry that he had left a purse containing gold upon the mantel—and, remembering the precise amount, he reckoned it and found it to be correct. Lying upon the table was a splendid gold seal, which he had used in closing the letter that was now missed:—in fine, there were numerous objects, either costly or curious, which an ill-disposed person might have self-appropriated, but all of which had been left untouched.
How, then, was it possible to suppose that Mrs. Sefton had purloined the letter?
Nevertheless, it had disappeared; and therefore some one must have taken it?—or else some accident must have happened whereby it was lost?
Trevelyan racked his brain to discover whether it was possible that he himself had removed it from the mantel after he had placed it there: but he felt assured that during the interval which elapsed between the writing of that letter and the arrival of Mrs. Sefton, he had not quitted the apartment.
The affair was most mysterious: nay—it was also alarming;—for how could he possibly account for the disappearance of a sealed letter? If it had indeed been taken by an ill-disposed person, the contents might be made known—perhaps to the prejudice of his suit with Agnes. But he was assured that no one had entered the room during his absence;—and he was so reluctant to fix the deed on Mrs. Sefton, and had so many reasons against such a supposition, that he became equally confident she was in no way connected with the strange occurrence.