“Pardon me, dear madam—pardon me,” said Trevelyan, deeply afflicted at having suffered his excited feelings to hurry him into those passionate exclamations which had so terrified her. “I was wrong thus to dwell on the subject.”
“No—no: it is better that I should learn the worst,” she cried, with a strong spasmodic shuddering, while horror—ineffable horror—convulsed her countenance. “But how shall we rescue him from that living tomb?”
“Abandon not yourself to despair,” replied Trevelyan. “In the first instance I must discover the place where our friend is confined: and then, trust to me to effect his deliverance!”
“Excellent man!—generous-hearted noble!” cried Mrs. Sefton, in a tone indicative of the most fervent gratitude. “But will not the law aid us in all this?”
“I have already explained to you, my dear madam, that every thing has doubtless been done by James Heathcote under colour of the most monstrous law that disgraces our statute-book,” responded Lord William. “Were I to apply to a magistrate, I could obtain no redress: he would be unable to assist me. The Commissioners in Lunacy would view the matter in the ordinary light, and tell me that when the time for the usual periodical visit to the various asylums arrived, due inquiries should be instituted. No—the lawyer must be assailed by other weapons: cunning must be met by cunning;—and much as I abhor duplicity, I will not fail to use it, if necessary, in this case. Believe me when I assure you that no time shall be lost, and that I will without delay adopt measures to discover the place where our friend is imprisoned.”
“God send you success!” murmured Mrs. Sefton, faintly: then, in a higher tone and with renewed excitement, she said, “But how can I calm my feelings—how can I tranquillize myself even for a moment, while this state of suspense shall last? And when I think of what his feelings must be——Oh! it is enough to drive him mad in reality where he is, and me likewise mad here!”
“But you must endeavour to exercise some degree of command over your emotions,” said Trevelyan. “Consider—reflect—I may require your aid in this work of deliverance; and——”
“Oh! now indeed you hold out an inducement calculated to calm me—to give me courage!” exclaimed Mrs. Sefton. “Yes—I will be tranquil: I will exercise a greater control over my feelings. I will throw aside the weakness of a woman, and become strong in the hope of Sir Gilbert’s rescue, and in the endeavour to accomplish it.”
“This frame of mind becomes you, my dear madam,” said Trevelyan. “And now permit me to take my departure—for there is no time to be lost.”
“Farewell for the present,” responded Mrs. Sefton, offering him her hand; “and accept my most unfeigned gratitude for your noble conduct towards me and your generous intentions in behalf of Sir Gilbert Heathcote.”