CHAPTER XLIX.
Sally Gardiner grew deathly pale as Antoinette's words fell upon her ear. Had she heard aright, or were her ears playing her a horrible trick?
"Mr. Victor Lamont is in the grounds, my lady, hiding among the thick alder-bushes down by the brook, and he vows he will stay there, be it day, week, month, or year, until he gets an opportunity to see and speak with you."
"You must manage to see him at once, Antoinette, and give him a message from me. Tell him I will see him to-morrow night—at—at midnight, down by the brook-side. I can not, I dare not, come before that, lest I might attract the attention of the inmates of the house. If—if he should question you about my affairs, or, in fact, about anything, make answer that you do not know to all inquiries—all questions. Be off at once, Antoinette. Delays are dangerous, you know."
As soon as she found herself alone, young Mrs. Gardiner turned the key in the lock, and flew at once to her writing-desk. Antoinette had laid several letters upon it. The letters—the writing upon two of which seemed rather familiar to her—were from the gentlemen who had loaned her the money a short time before at Newport. One stated that he should be in that vicinity at the end of the week, asking if she could find it convenient to pay part of the loan he had made to her when he called upon her. The other letter stated that the writer would be obliged if she could pay the money to his daughter when it became due. "She is a great friend of Miss Margaret Gardiner's," he went on to state, "and has decided to accept an invitation to spend a fortnight at the mansion, and would arrive there the following week."
Sally Gardiner tore both letters into shreds, and cast them from her with a laugh that was terrible to hear.
"I shall trust my wit to see me safely through this affair," she muttered. "I do not know just how it is to be done, but I shall accomplish it somehow."
There was a tap at the door. Thrusting the letters quickly in her desk, she closed the lid, securely locked it, and put the key in the pocket of her dress.
She was about to say "Come in," when she suddenly remembered that she had fastened the door. When she opened it, she found Andrew, her husband's valet, standing there with a very white, troubled face.
"I am sorry to hurry you, my lady," he said in a tremulous voice; "but master seems so much worse we are sore afraid for him. Miss Margaret bids me summon you without a moment's delay."