We left Crabb Cot for Dyke Manor, carrying our wonder with us. The next singular point to us was, how the changer of the note could have been so well acquainted with the circumstances attending the buying of the brooch. Mrs. Todhetley would talk of it by the hour together, suggesting now this person and now that; but never seeming to hit upon a likely one.
July passed away, August also, and September came in. On the Thursday in the first week of the latter month, Emma Paul was to become Emma Chandler.
All that while, through all those months and weeks, poor Oliver Preen had been having a bad time of it. No longer able to buoy himself up with the delusive belief that Emma’s engagement to Chandler was nothing but a myth, he had to accept it, and all the torment it brought him. He had grown pale and thin; nervous also; his lips would turn white if anyone spoke to him abruptly, his hot hand trembled when in another’s grasp. Jane thought he must be suffering from some inward fever; she did not know much about her brother’s love for Emma, or dream that it could be so serious.
“I’m sure I wish their wedding was over and done with; Oliver might come to his proper senses then,” Jane told herself. “He is very silly. I don’t see much in Emma Paul.”
September, I say, came in. It was somewhat singular that we should again be for just that one first week of it at Crabb Cot. Sir Robert Tenby had invited the Squire to take a few days’ shooting with him, and included Tod in the invitation—to his wild delight. So Mr. and Mrs. Todhetley went from Dyke Manor to Crabb Cot for the week, and we accompanied them.
On the Monday morning of this eventful week—and terribly eventful it was destined to be—Mr. Paul’s office had a surprise. Richard MacEveril walked into it. He was looking fresh and blooming, as if he had never heard of such a thing as running away. Mr. Hanborough gazed up at him from his desk as if he saw an apparition; Tite Batley’s red face seemed illumined by sudden sunshine.
“Well, and is nobody going to welcome me back?” cried Dick, as he put out his hand, in the silence, to Mr. Hanborough.
“The truth is, we never expected to see you back; we thought you had gone for good,” answered Hanborough.
Dick laughed. “The two masters in there?” he asked, nodding his head at the inner door.