"How can you possibly know that?" cried Morley, very much excited.
"Well, I don't knaw et zackly," replied Josiah; "but the porter said, last night, that there ha' b'en a woman up there two or three times spaken' to Mrs. Courland, an' he watched her in an' out o' that little gate in the garden; and by what he said, I do b'lieve 'tes she. He chalked her out zackly, semmen to me."
"Whatever could she be doing here?" asked Morley. "It is quite absurd to think of such a thing."
"Zackly like that," said Josiah; "but I do b'lieve 'twor she, an' that man an' the little maid wor the ones that Miss Reeney spoke about. 'Tes some new manœuvre of 'The Maister's,' I'll be bound, an' I shall watch like a cat watching a mouse. Dedn't Miss Reeney say that he knaw'd all about you, an' everything. He wor watching you when you dedn't knaw et, down there, I'll be bound. An' now he ha' sent she for to tell your aunt somethen'."
At this point of their conversation, they were joined by Mr. Morley, to whom Frederick read the most material portions of Alrina's letter, and Josiah repeated his suspicions that Miss Freeman was lurking about the neighbourhood. If so, they had no doubt she was there on some errand from her brother respecting Frederick Morley. What it was they couldn't imagine. It was arranged therefore that Frederick should return to Cornwall again in search of Alrina and her father; while Mr. Morley and Josiah should remain at Ashley Hall, for the purpose of making what discovery they could in the deserted house, and of finding out whether Miss Freeman was really in the neighbourhood, and what she was about. So, after an early breakfast, their plans were formed, and Mr. Morley and Josiah proceeded to the deserted house, while Frederick rode on the wings of love to the rescue of his imprisoned enchantress.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE SECRET.
Mrs. Courland was expecting her husband's return about this time. She was anxious and nervous. He was a good, kind husband, and she endeavoured to do all in her power to make him happy. It was a great trial to her to look that kind, good man in the face, and know that she was keeping a secret from him which he ought to have known from the beginning. It made her unhappy,—miserable,—and she dreaded his return. Should he discover it now, and find that she had been deceiving him for so many years, it would be dreadful. And now he was on his last voyage;—he would now retire from the sea and live at home. How should she be able to keep the secret then? Some trifling circumstance might occur at any time, to discover it; and then his kind affection would be lost to her. He would not—he could not—look upon her with his wonted loving confidence, after the discovery of her deception. Oh! why had she kept it from him?
Julia knew that her aunt was anxious about her husband's return, and she did not disturb her therefore when she retired after breakfast to her little private room.