“Coralie—Miss Fontaine—told me of it when I was with her last evening. Is there anything to be seen?”
“Nothing at all. I have been here for twenty minutes and have not caught a glimpse of any one, black or white. Yesterday, when Salmon’s boy took some grocery there, he saw the black lady peeping at him behind the blind.”
“It seems a strange affair altogether,” remarked Ben. “The sudden appearance of the people at Worcester, that was strange, as was their sudden disappearance. If it be in truth they who are hiding themselves here, I can’t say much for their wisdom: they are too near to the old scene.”
“I wonder you don’t set up in London,” I said to Ben as we walked onwards.
“It is what I should like to do of all things,” he replied in a tone of eagerness, “and confine my practice wholly to surgery. But my home must be here. Circumstances are stronger than we are.”
“Will it be at Oxlip Grange?” I quietly asked.
Ben turned his head to study my face, and what he read there told tales. “I see,” he said, “you know. Yes, it will be at Oxlip Grange. That has been settled a long while past.”
“I wish you every happiness; all good luck.”
“Thank you, Johnny.”
We were nearing the place in question when Mrs. Cramp turned out of its small iron gate, that stood beside the ornamental large ones, in her bewitching costume of green and purple. “And how are you, Mr. Benjamin?” she asked. “Come down for good?”