“Mrs. Jethway. And the cottage we are taking her to is her own. She is a widow; and I was speaking to her only this afternoon. I was at Castle Boterel post-office, and she came there to post a letter. Poor soul! Let us hurry on.”
“Hold my wrist a little tighter. Was not that tomb we laid her on the tomb of her only son?”
“Yes, it was. Yes, I see it now. She was there to visit the tomb. Since the death of that son she has been a desolate, desponding woman, always bewailing him. She was a farmer’s wife, very well educated—a governess originally, I believe.”
Knight’s heart was moved to sympathy. His own fortunes seemed in some strange way to be interwoven with those of this Jethway family, through the influence of Elfride over himself and the unfortunate son of that house. He made no reply, and they still walked on.
“She begins to feel heavy,” said the stranger, breaking the silence.
“Yes, she does,” said Knight; and after another pause added, “I think I have met you before, though where I cannot recollect. May I ask who you are?”
“Oh yes. I am Lord Luxellian. Who are you?”
“I am a visitor at The Crags—Mr. Knight.”
“I have heard of you, Mr. Knight.”
“And I of you, Lord Luxellian. I am glad to meet you.”