"Five thousand a year," she thought; "it is little, after all, compared to the fortune that would have been mine had I been lucky enough to captivate Sir Oswald Eversleigh. It is little compared to the wealth enjoyed by that low-born and nameless creature, Sir Oswald's widow. But it is much for one who has drained poverty's bitter cup to the very dregs as I have. Yes, to the dregs; for though I have never known the want of life's common necessaries, I have known humiliations which are at least as hard to bear."
The many windows of the manor-house were all a-blaze with light as the hunting-party entered the gates. Fires burned brightly in all the rooms, and the interior of that comfortable house formed a very pleasant contrast to the cheerless darkness of the night, the muddy roads, and damp atmosphere.
The butler stood in the hall ready to welcome the returning guests with stately ceremony; while the under-servants bustled about, attending to the wants of the mud-bespattered huntsmen.
"Mr. Dale is at home, I suppose?" Douglas said, as he warmed his hands before the great wood fire.
"At home, sir!" replied the butler; "hasn't he come home with you, sir?"
"No; we never saw him after the meet. I imagine he must have been called away on parish business."
"I don't know, sir," answered the butler; "my master has certainly not been home since the morning."
A feeling of vague alarm took possession of almost everyone present.
"It is very strange," exclaimed Squire Mordaunt. "Did no one come here to inquire after your master this morning?"
"No one, sir," replied the butler.