"What, out o' doors, at that time of night!"
"Ay; I was in the grove,—praying."
"Did you hear any voice you knew?"
"No: all was too indistinct. I heard a pistol, but no words. Did you?"
"I heard no more than you, madam," said Ryder, trembling.
No one went to bed any more that night in Hernshaw Castle.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
This mysterious circumstance made a great talk in the village and in the kitchen of Hernshaw Castle; but not in the drawing-room; for Mrs. Gaunt instantly closed her door to visitors, and let it be known that it was her intention to retire to a convent; and, in the mean time, she desired not to be disturbed.
Ryder made one or two attempts to draw her out upon the subject, but was sternly checked.
Pale, gloomy, and silent, the mistress of Hernshaw Castle moved about the place, like the ghost of her former self. She never mentioned Griffith; forbade his name to be uttered in her hearing; and, strange to say, gave Ryder strict orders not to tell any one what she had heard from Thomas Leicester.