“Peace—peace!” he cried. “Away, I did but dream.”
The servants retired from the door gazing at each other in mute terror, for Learmont’s cries had alarmed the whole house, and filled them with superstitious fears.
“So—so,” said the squire, when he trimmed his light, and recovered a little from his state of mental excitement; “that was a dream—how terrible—how terrible. Can I ever sleep again in peace? Dare I lay down my weary head upon my pillow with the hope of repose? No—no. And yet there are potent drugs that I have heard wrap the soul in oblivion, or else in the slumber they create, visit it in gorgeous shapes, and present rare phantasies to the mental eye. I will try them. To-morrow—to-morrow, I will try them. I may find peace then; but I must not tempt sleep again. ’Tis too terrible—too terrible.”
CHAPTER XCIX.
Ada’s Faith in Albert Seyton.—The Confidence of a Generous Heart.
Sir Francis Hartleton was never so much vexed in his life as he was at the supposed treachery of Albert Seyton. He revolved in his mind over and over again, how he should tell Ada of the scene that had occurred between him and her lover, and of all his suspicions concerning him, and at length he resolved that Lady Hartleton should be the medium of communicating the unwelcome intelligence of Albert’s defection from his love and entertainment by Ada’s worst enemy.
For this purpose it became necessary that Ada should be put in possession of more facts concerning herself than the humane and considerate magistrate had, as yet, thought proper to burthen her mind with. This he much regretted, because he had hoped that before he had occasion to mention Learmont’s name particularly to Ada, he should be able to couple with it something more than mere surmises, however well founded such surmises might be.
While he was in his own private room, considering deeply and painfully this matter, a note arrived to him, which was immediately another source of vexation, inasmuch as it hurried on the events which he would have been glad to see develop themselves a little further before he actively interfered in them.
The letter was from the Secretary of State, intimating that the charges confidentially made against Learmont, by him, Sir Francis Hartleton, must either be abandoned, or speedily proved, for that a dissolution of Parliament was about to take place, and it was absolutely necessary to know in whose hands the Learmont property was.
“This,” said Sir Francis, as he laid down the minister’s note, “must bring affairs to a crisis. I must apprehend Jacob Gray now, and Britton, and trust to one or other of them committing Learmont; a slender, hope, I am afraid, since no mercy can be offered to Gray on account of Vaughan’s business, and Britton is the last person to expect a confession from.”