"Gone away, has he?" cried Sir Harry.
"Gone clean away, sir, bag and baggage," replied Mr. Dexter, who seemed not able to get over the surprising fact. "It's the oddest thing I ever knew. The furniture—it was only hired, as you may remember, Sir Harry—is already being removed out of the house. A strange whim, to be red-hot for a place one month, and run away from it the next!"
"Very," said Sir Harry, quietly.
"I suppose the truth is, he found the house so different from his own place, the Oaks, that he couldn't reconcile himself to stop in it," resumed Mr. Dexter, talking as fast as ever. "A magnificent place that, his servant tells me. He has another, too, close by it, that he keeps up as well. I pressed the question on the servant—a most respectable man, quite superior, Sir Harry—what could be taking his master away; but he said he didn't know, unless it might be that he was disappointed at finding the shooting here so poor. The preserves at the Oaks are hardly to be matched in the kingdom. Any way, Sir Harry, he's gone, whatever may have taken him."
As Mr. Dexter went out of the room, disburdened of his news, Sir Harry came to the window where I sat at work, laid his hand upon my head, and made me look up at him.
"Is that little heart of yours relieved by the tidings?"
"Yes; oh, yes. I have not dreaded Mr. Edwin Barley so much the last few days; but I am glad he is gone. I was always fearing that he might apply for some power that would enable him legally to take me hence."
"In that case I must have got legal power on my side in the shape of a special licence, and married you romantically in the great drawing-room at twelve at night, and so made you secure in that way. I think even now it may be safer, Anne, not to delay the ceremony long."
I looked up in consternation, believing he really thought there might still be danger, and met the expression in his eyes. Mine fell on my work again. I began sewing fast.
"Don't you think Monsieur de Mellissie looks very ill, Sir Harry?"