"Yes, ma'am, quite alone."
(What had become of Nugent? I was too much interested in Oscar to be able to put the question, at that moment.)
"When did your master go?" I went on.
"Better than two hours since."
"Why didn't I hear of it before?"
"I had Mr. Oscar's orders not to tell you, ma'am, till this time in the evening."
Wretched as I was already, my spirits sank lower still when I heard that. The order given to the servant looked like a premeditated design, not only to leave Dimchurch, but also to keep us in ignorance of his whereabouts afterwards.
"Has Mr. Oscar gone to London?" I inquired.
"He hired Gootheridge's chaise, ma'am, to take him to Brighton. And he told me with his own lips that he had left Browndown never to come back. I know no more of it than that."
He had left Browndown, never to come back! For Lucilla's sake, I declined to believe that. The servant was exaggerating, or the servant had misunderstood what had been said to him. The letter in my hand reminded me that I had perhaps needlessly questioned him on matters which his master had confided to my own knowledge only. Before I dismissed him for the night, I made my deferred inquiry on the hateful subject of the other brother.