Mr Percy Marvale, in the mean time, had not been idle at Howkey. He had established himself in the house, in spite of all the sour looks and short answers Mr Smith could bestow on him. All his attempts at a lodgment were aided by the invitations of Sibylla, whether conveyed in words or in untranslatable smiles and glances. An instantaneous friendship was established between him and the younger branches; and from some of the children, who came down to see their papa, and congratulate him on his return, he picked out a great mass of information about the affairs of the nursery and school-room. There certainly was as a governess—young, pretty, and very shy—exactly such as he supposed Miss Elstree would be; and his hopes were further raised by learning that her name was Alice. His next object was to see her—to speak to her, if possible—and satisfy himself of her identity; for, as the information contained in Frank's letter did not emanate from himself, and he had not even been admitted by his principal to a knowledge of its contents, he was not inclined to believe that the discovery could be made without him.
By dint of remaining at Howkey till it was impossible for Old Smith to avoid asking the friend of his preserver to stay all night, he managed to make good his quarters on the ground of his operations, and resolved to commence proceedings as early as possible in the morning. Sibylla lay awake half the night, revolving all the strange speeches he had made her—his allusions to the hidden treasure in the house—the lost star— the incognito goddess—and tracing in all his fine expressions one paramount idea of his anxiety to make himself master of a perfect paragon of beauty and romance, she could not avoid coming to the conclusion, that these were all metaphorical declarations of attachment to herself. And, on the following day, her manner had derived so much empressement from these cogitations, that all the efforts of Monimia on the imperturbable Frank were cast into the shade by the extraordinary evolutions of the sentimental Sibylla.
"Gads!" said Mr Percy Marvale to himself, "this beats the Surrey all to sticks. He must be shockingly rich"—he thought, looking round the splendidly furnished drawing-room; "I'll see if I can't do a little business on my own account, as well as Mr Edwards's."
"You've heard what I have been asking you, madam, about an undiscovered jewel in this elegant abode? Pity it should be left to the dimness of the rural shades!"
"Alas!" said Sibylla, casting down her eyes in modest embarrassment, "it is little fitted to meet the eye of the world."
"It needs a fresh setting, that's all; and they say there's an exquisite silversmith on the Scottish border. The railway brings him within twenty hours."
A few arguments pro and con—a few blushes—a few quotations from the love scenes of the Surrey, and it was finally arranged. At three, they were to meet at the foot of the lane, where a chaise was to be in waiting; and Frank Edwards was left by his faithless assistant to look after Alice Elstree for himself.
The village of Wibbleton had not slept all night for thinking of the new inhabitant of the cottage ornée; and the landlord of the Rose and Crown had not been backward in singing the praises of his generosity and riches.
"Them Chobbs has cotch another pigeon," said the hostler to the boots; "and a rare good thing they makes of that 'ere old house. The last tenant paid 'em two years's rent in forfeit; and this 'un will do the same."
"They are the bullyingest, meanestest, lyingest fellies as ever I heard of," replied the boots. "Tom Chobbs, the eldest one, owes me no end of money; but there aint no use asking it, for the whole kit on them—the lawyer, the doctor, and the old corporal, his stepfather—would all swear they had seen him pay it."