Richards slipped out and away.
He went out, and went down the street, positively laughing aloud, so that people turned smilingly round to look after him.
And to pay this mortgage off, the honest fellow had put down the bulk of his fortune, and borrowed thousands besides. The property of Grantley Hall was now virtually his; but he would not foreclose, and the Mackenzies should know nothing about it, for a time at all events.
Richards had played his first card, and it was a strong one.
He went straight off now to see “his baby,” and to continue the fairy story which he had commenced at Grantley Hall.
He saw some one else—he saw Mary. Mary was his first lieutenant. It was she who summoned him that evening at the Hall when he entered the room just as Sir Digby was about to propose.
A good girl, Mary, and devoted to her “missus.” She could keep a secret, too, and she could keep Richards posted, lest Sir Digby should steal a march upon them.
But time had rolled on, as we know. There were wars and rumours of wars, disaffection at home and threatened revolution, and last, but not least, as far as our story goes, Sir Digby had been ill, and at the point of death. Keane also had been abroad for his health, and with him his daughter, so that the evil day was postponed.
Evil days have a disagreeable habit of coming, nevertheless, in spite of all we can do.