“Yonder’s the house,” said he, stopping short, and pointing to a clump of trees just discernible in the darkness. “You’ll not be wanting me further?”
I hastened on, and was presently knocking loudly at the door of the Hall. The house was quite dark, and every one had evidently retired for the night. Nearly ten minutes elapsed before a window opened, and a surly voice called out,—
“Well? Who’s there, disturbing decent folk at this hour?”
“A messenger from Mr Gorman. Is the young lady at home? I must see her instantly.”
“Young leddy! There’s none younger than the mistress, and she sleeps at night like a decent woman.”
“Has Miss Gorman gone, then?” I exclaimed.
“Why not, when she was sent for?”
“Who sent for her? When did she go? Where has she gone? Let me in, I say. There’s foul play, and I must see your mistress instantly.”
My agitation succeeded in convincing the fellow that something was amiss, and he put in his head and presently unbarred the front door.
“Mercy on us! what’s the meaning of all this?” said the old man-servant as I stepped into the hall.