"Jenifer, I have really come out of tenderness to you, and to those who may belong to you."
"No one doubts your tenderness, sir; least of any could I doubt it. Tell me who mentioned a stranger to you, so as to send you here to me?"
"Lady Greystock's groom, coming to Beremouth early, and finding us in great trouble, made a declaration as to a stranger who had appeared and stopped his mistress as she was driving through the park last night. He says this man asked if they could tell where Mrs. Evelyn lived, and Mrs. Evelyn, immediately answering, said that she lived somewhere in the neighborhood, and that he could learn by inquiring for you. The groom says that the man evidently knew Mrs. Morier's name, as well as year name; and that after speaking to him, Mrs. Evelyn asked Lady Greystock to drive on, and that she drove rapidly, and never spoke till they had almost got back to Blagden."
"It is quite true," said Jenifer. "He told me the same story this day."
"Can you say where this man is? He will be found first or last; and it is for the sake of justice that you should speak, Jenifer. The police are on his track. Let me entreat you to give me every information. Concealment is the worst thing that can be practised in such a case as this--have you any idea where he is? I do not ask you who he is; you will have to tell all, I fear, before a more powerful person than I am. I only come as a friend, that you may not be induced to conceal the evil-doer."
"The evil-doer," said Jenifer; "who says he did it?"
"I say he will be tried for doing it; and that a trial is good for the innocent in such a case of terrible suspicion as this."
"May be," said Jenifer, "may be!"
Then, once more, that prayer, said, from her very heart, though unspoken by her lips; and then these quiet words--"And as to the man himself. He is my brother. My mother's child by her second husband." "Your brother--he with whom Eleanor lived in Ireland?" "Yes, Mr. Brewer; he of whom I told you when you saved Eleanor so [{324}] many years ago. And as to where he is--step into the kitchen, sir, and you may see him sleeping in a chair by the fire--any way, I left him there, when I came to open the door to you."
Mr. Brewer had really come to Jenifer in a perfectly friendly way; exactly as he had said--out of tenderness. He had known enough to send him there, and to have those within call who would secure this stranger, whoever he was, and wherever he was found. Now, known, he walked straight into the kitchen, and there stopped to take a full view of a man in a leathern easy chair, his arm resting on Jenifer's tea-table, and sound asleep. A finer man eyes never saw. Strong in figure, and in face of a remarkable beauty. He was sunburnt; having pulled his neckcloth off, the skin of his neck showed in fair contrast, and the chest heaved and fell as the strong breath of the sleeper was drawn regularly and with healthy ease. It was a picture of calm rest; it seemed like a pity to disturb it. There stood Mr. Brewer safely contemplating one who was evidently in a state of blissful unconsciousness as to danger to others or himself.