'Nor I, neither,' thought Lord Colambre; but he thanked the young man, and determined to avail himself of Larry's misconception or false report; examined the stones very gravely, and said, 'This promises well. Lapis caliminaris, schist, plum-pudding stone, rhomboidal, crystal, blend, garrawachy,' and all the strange names he could think of, jumbling them together at a venture.
'The LASE!—Is it?' cried the young man, with joy sparkling in his eyes, as his mother held up the packet. 'Then all's safe! and he's an honest man, and shame on me, that could suspect he meant us wrong. Lend me the papers.'
He cracked the seals, and taking off the cover,—'It's the LASE, sure enough. Shame on me!—But stay, where's the memorandum?'
'It's there, sure,' said his mother, 'where my lord's pencil writ it. I don't read.—Grace, dear, look.'
The young man put it into her hands, and stood without power to utter a syllable.
'It's not here! It's gone!—no sign of it.'
'Gracious Heaven! that can't be,' said the old woman, putting on her spectacles; 'let me see—I remember the very spot.'
'It's taken away—it's rubbed clean out!—Oh, wasn't I fool? But who could have thought he'd be the villain!' The young man seemed neither to see nor hear; but to be absorbed in thought.
Grace, with her eyes fixed upon him, grew as pale as death—'He'll go—he's gone.'
'She's gone!' cried Lord Colambre, and the mother just caught her in her arms as she was falling.