"A stranger is there!" said she timidly.
"Oh, only some fellow he has brought, no doubt, to witness our signatures; he has delayed unaccountably long, so come, darling."
Clara entered the half-darkened library, pale as snow, and trembling very much, and saw her father and Mr. De Murrer mutually shaking hands, and then with—Derval Hampton!
On reaching London, the latter was doubtful at first what to do to obtain information of Lord Oakhampton's movements, of Clara, of his brother, and how to gain a clue to all that must have transpired during his protracted absence. As money was necessary for him, in the first place, he drove from the docks to Gray's Inn in quest of Mr. De Murrer, and at his chambers found that dapper little gentleman leisurely tying up with red tape a bundle of very legal-looking documents, which proved to be the contract and marriage settlements of "Rookleigh Hampton, Esquire, of Finglecombe, and the Honourable Clara Hampton," and thereby hung a wondrous tale!
It was with something of a sigh in his breast that the worthy little lawyer tied up these documents, for he disliked and mistrusted the bridegroom, and was astonished and grieved by the bearing of the luckless and too evidently repugnant bride. In all his legal experience he had met nothing like this.
Warmly indeed did he welcome Derval.
"Just in time, my dear young friend; just in time!" he exclaimed.
"Time for what?" asked the sunburned and weatherbeaten Derval.
"The wedding—of course, you know all about it."
"Wedding—whose?"