But when the first gush of feeling had somewhat subsided, a horrible suspicion entered her mind.
Could Lord William have seduced Agnes away from the care of those friends to whom she was consigned?—could he have entertained the vile and derogatory idea of using the villa as the receptacle for a young creature whom he intended to make his mistress?—did he suppose that Mrs. Sefton would lend herself to such an atrocious proceeding?—and had he unconsciously brought the child to the house of the mother, thinking to make a pander of the latter to the dishonour of the former?
All these thoughts flashed with lightning rapidity to Mrs. Sefton’s mind, as, disengaging herself from the embraces of Agnes, she turned towards Lord William, and, with flashing eyes and quivering lips, peremptorily demanded an explanation of the circumstances which had rendered him the companion of her daughter at such an hour.
Trevelyan instantly divined what was passing in the lady’s bosom; and, perceiving at once the awkwardness of his position and the grounds of her suspicions, he hastily gave such explanations as were satisfactory to Mrs. Sefton, Agnes herself corroborating the main facts.
“Pardon me, my dear friend,” said the now happy mother, taking Trevelyan’s hand and pressing it fervently in token of gratitude,—“pardon me if for a moment I entertained the most unjust and derogatory suspicions.”
“Mention them not, madam,” exclaimed Trevelyan warmly: “but let your daughter seek that repose which she must so deeply need—and I will then, as a man of honour, explain to you how I became interested in her, and how it was that the Mrs. Mortimer whose name has already been mentioned happened to bring her to my house.”
A slight smile—almost of archness—played upon the lips of Mrs. Sefton, as she turned towards Agnes,—a smile which seemed to intimate that she already knew more than the young nobleman fancied, but was not vexed with him in consequence of the facts thus known to her.
“Come with me, dearest girl,” she said, addressing her daughter, “and I will conduct you to a chamber where you may obtain a few hours’ repose. You need not bid farewell to his lordship; for I have no doubt he will honour us with his presence at breakfast—when you will see him again.”
Agnes blushed and cast down her eyes—she scarcely knew why—as these words met her ears;—and again the arch smile played upon her mother’s lips. Trevelyan observed that there was some mystery, though not of a disagreeable nature, in Mrs. Sefton’s manner; and in a moment—with galvanic swiftness—the reminiscence of the tears upon the portrait and the lost letter flashed to his mind.
The ladies disappeared, and Trevelyan threw himself in a chair, to muse upon the discovery which he had thus made, and which was well calculated to afford him pleasure. Inasmuch as it was evident from Mrs. Sefton’s manner and the significant words she had uttered relative to the meeting at the breakfast-table, that she was not inimical to his suit.