“Then never mention what I have suggested, just now,” said Mr. Seyton, “till I give you leave, and Albert, depend upon my using my utmost exertions to endeavour to discover the mystery which envelopes the fate of your young friend.”
Albert listened to his father with rapt attention, when he threw himself into his arms, crying, “Oh, find them! Find them, and I shall be happy.”
“This very day shall be devoted to inquiries,” said Seyton. “I am greatly interested by all that has occurred, and perchance it will withdraw my mind from sorrows and disappointments of my own, to turn my mind and energies to unravel the mystery connected with your pretty playmate.”
Albert, looked his gratitude, and after the morning’s scanty meal was despatched, he saw his father depart upon his promised expedition with a heart elate with hope and expectant joy.
For a time the youthful Albert remained at home in deep thought; then he suddenly rose, saying, “Why should I be idle? I may do something in this matter. Just Heaven! If that bad man should have murdered him? Alas! My poor—poor Harry. My mind misgives me, that he loves you not. Oh, had I but some clue—some means of commencing in the right path of inquiry, I should then have some hope.”
So saying, with a desponding air, the youth left the house and wandered onwards without any definite idea of whither he was going or how he was to set about his self imposed task of endeavouring to discover the retreat of Jacob Gray and the young Harry.
CHAPTER XI.
Learmont in London.—The Endeavour to Drown Thought.—Life in 1742.—All is not Gold that Glitters.
Many spacious mansions which adorned the old city of Westminster at the date of our story have long since been swept from the ground to give place to more modern structures, and where the stately home of the noble or wealthy commoner reared its lofty walls are now to be seen but lines of streets, and the busy hum of commerce has superseded the stately aristocratic silence which used to reign undisturbed in many parts of the ancient district.
In a mansion of princely splendour, which has long since been pulled down to build some approaches to Westminster Bridge, dwelt the head of the house of Learmont, whenever business or inclination called him to the metropolis. In that house, however, as yet, the present Squire of Learmont had never resided. He had resided in deep seclusion ever since he had been acknowledged as the head of his house. A small part of his history was well known, but there were darker portions which the public eye might in vain attempt to fathom. He was a younger brother of the house he now represented, but his senior, from deep distress at the loss of a young and lovely wife in the first year of his marriage, had resolved by travelling in foreign countries, to endeavour to forget his irreparable loss, leaving the present squire in undisputed authority over his domains and extensive property. Then shortly came news of the decease, at Rome, of the elder brother. The present squire entered on his own account into undisputed possession of the vast accumulated property, for the relatives of the family were very few and very distant. This was all that was really known of the history of Squire Learmont, and his sudden determination, after nearly fourteen years of seclusion, to visit London, and launch out into a style of expensive living which, although it was well known he could afford, yet astonished everybody, were the themes of very general gossip. The old mansion had been hastily put in order for his reception. The complement of servants was greatly increased; an immense sum was spent in costly liveries and interior adornments; expectation was on the utmost stretch, and when Learmont did arrive and stalked into his ancient house, he created a scarcely less sensation than as if he had been some petty monarch.