With my mind filled with dreadful forebodings, I reached my own private
chamber, entered it, and bolted the door, that I might consider,
undisturbed, the best course of action to pursue under these fearful
suspicions that haunted me. Hour after hour passed as I sat thus
absorbed in thought which seemed to turn my very hair gray from its
intensity.
I heard Richard descend the stairs and go out into the street. Not
long; after this the door-bell rang violently and the servant knocked
at my door to say that a gentleman in the drawing-room wished to see
me. Smoothing my hair and arranging my toilet, I obeyed the summons,
but started back on discovering the stranger to be no other than Mr.
Bristed. He pressed my hands and said:
“Agnes, can I converse with you in private here a few moments?”
My first surprise over, I answered, “Come with me; we will not be
disturbed here.” Withdrawing to a small room adjoining, he drew forward
an ottoman and seating himself beside me, said:
“Agnes, Herbert is missing; can you tell me where I can find him?”
“Herbert missing!” said I with a shudder.
“Yes,” said he, “I have heard, Agnes, that a gentleman visits you whom
I surmise to be my brother, and, if so, I thought perhaps you would
know through him of Herbert’s place of hiding.”
“Has Herbert left you?” said I. “Tell me--what do you mean, Mr.
Bristed?”
“Yes,” said he; “some few weeks since, I left the Hall to visit an old
friend. I expected to be absent a fortnight. While I was gone Herbert
disappeared, the servants knew not how nor where. At first, hoping
to discover that he had strayed off of his own accord and would soon
be found, they searched the country in every direction, but in vain.
They were at last obliged to send me word of his disappearance. You
can imagine my sensations on arriving at the Hall and finding the dear
child’s room vacant. I made inquiries in every quarter, sent couriers
out in all parts of the neighboring country, but no trace of him could
be found.
“I at length thought of you, that you might have seen or heard of my
brother. He is the one person likely to be concerned in the singular
disappearance of Herbert.”
I trembled from head to foot. What could I say? Evidently he was not
aware of my marriage with his brother. How should I act? Richard might
come in at any moment and discover himself. I recollected him to have
incidentally mentioned that the following day he had an engagement at
the race-course with a friend; I therefore said hurriedly:
“Mr. Bristed, I have seen Richard recently, but tonight can tell you
nothing further. If you will call to-morrow morning at eleven, I will
tell you all I know.”
He seized my hand, exclaiming, “Tell me to-night, Agnes, and set my
mind at ease.”
My head seemed on fire--I groaned audibly.
“I can tell you nothing of a certainty. It is all surmise, and my brain
is distracted to-night. Give me till to-morrow.”
“I will, Agnes; I feel that I can confide in you.”
“Now go,” I replied. “My position is such that your presence here will
only destroy the purpose of your visit.”
He clasped my hand in his and left me.
The next morning before leaving for the racecourse, while adjusting his
neck-tie, Richard said:
“I fear we shall lose our imbecile pupil up-stairs, Ag. I brought a
doctor in to see him last night, and he says he cannot live long.”
I could not see his face, for he looked persistently away.
“If he is ill, I must see him, Richard,” I managed to reply.
“Oh, no!” said he; “I thought you were foolishly scared to hear him
groan yesterday, but if he does not get better I will send him home to
his friends.” This he said carelessly, as he walked out of the room
humming a lively air.
How coolly he talks about the lad! thought I, half ashamed of my
suspicions. Perhaps I have wronged him. I have been too impetuous in my
surmises.