‘But is he there?’ asked her sister impatiently.
‘Yes—he was. He’s gone now!’
‘Lord Mountclere?’
‘No. There is no old man there at all. Mr Julian was there.’
A little ‘Ah!’ came from Ethelberta, like a note from a storm-bird at night. She turned round and went into the back room. ‘Is Mr. Julian going to call here?’ she inquired, coming forward again.
‘No—he’s gone by the steamboat. He was only passing through on his way to Sandbourne, where he is gone to settle a small business relating to his father’s affairs. He was not in Knollsea ten minutes, owing to something which detained him on the way.’
‘Did he inquire for me?’
‘No. And only think, Ethelberta—such a remarkable thing has happened, though I nearly forgot to tell you. He says that coming along the road he was overtaken by a carriage, and when it had just passed him one of the horses shied, pushed the other down a slope, and overturned the carriage. One wheel came off and trundled to the bottom of the hill by itself. Christopher of course ran up, and helped out of the carriage an old gentleman—now do you know what’s likely?’
‘It was Lord Mountclere. I am glad that’s the cause,’ said Ethelberta involuntarily.
‘I imagined you would suppose it to be Lord Mountclere. But Mr. Julian did not know the gentleman, and said nothing about who he might be.’