"In what part of England did he live?"
"I think he must have been a traveller, sir, for he seemed to move about. We would hear of him, now in the south of England, now in the north, and now in the west. Mostly he seemed to be in what my mother called remote countries--Cumberland and Westmoreland."
"Cumberland and Westmoreland!" echoed Mr. Castlemaine. "Dear me! And have you no better clue to him than that?"
"No better, sir; no other. I do not, I say, know whether he is dead or alive."
"Well, it seems--pardon me--to be a somewhat wild-goose chase that you have entered on, this search for him. What is his name?"
"My mother's maiden name was Williams. He was her brother."
Mr. Castlemaine shook his head. "A not at all uncommon name," he said, "and I fear, madam, you might find some difficulty in tracing him out."
"Yes, I fear so. I find those places are very far off. At any rate, I will not think more of it for the present. My little child, I see it now, is too young to travel."
In all this account, Madame Guise had spoken the simple truth. The facts were as she stated. The only falsehood in it was, the representation that it was this relative, this never-yet-met uncle, she had come over to search out. During her long journey, through France, she had said to herself that after she had found her husband, they might perhaps go together to seek her uncle: but that was all.
"Yes, the little one is too young and delicate to travel," pursued Madame Guise, "and I dare not take her on. This illness of hers has frightened me, and I shall, if possible, remain here by the sea."