I was as one who carries a respite for a man already in the cart and on his way to Tyburn; or I was one who himself receives a respite on the way to Tyburn. For, if the charges in those letters were true, there could be no doubt as to the results of an inquiry. Now could there be any doubt that Lord Fylingdale, in such a case, would refuse an inquiry? I ran, therefore, as if everything depended on my speed, and I arrived breathless.
Molly was alone walking about the garden restlessly. The sun was now set, but the glow of the sky lingered, and her face was flushed in the western light. "Jack," she cried, "I thought we had parted this afternoon. What has happened? You have been running. What is it?"
"A good deal has happened, Molly. For one thing, you will not be married to-morrow morning."
"Why not? Is my lord ill?"
"Not that I know of. But you will not be married to-morrow morning."
"You talk in riddles, Jack."
"Would you like to put off the wedding, Molly?"
"Alas! If I could put it off altogether! I am down-hearted over it, Jack. It weighs me down like lead. But there is no escape."
"I think I have in my pocket a means of escape—a respite, at least—unless there are worse liars in the world than those we have at Lynn."
"Liars at Lynn, Jack? Who are they? Oh, Jack, what has happened?"