"Did you see the laird?" said McCray, coming slowly forth from behind
some bushes, after Jane had been standing some few minutes in the lane
where she had left him to wait.
"The laird!" said Jane, starting. "Why, who do you mean?"
"Mean? Why, Sir Mooray himself. I saw him turn round to have a good
look at ye, as ye came across the home close from the Hall. And ye
didna see him?"
"No--no--no!" sobbed Jane. "Oh dear--oh dear! I'm undone!"
"Nay--nay, _ye're_ not, lassie; for I'll a'ways stand by ye. Dinna
greet aboot that. Ye didna tell me why ye came, but I know it's for
some good, and that ye'll tell me all in good time."
"That I will, indeed!" sobbed Jane; "but don't ask me now!"
"Nay, then, I'm not speering to know," said Sandy, contentedly. "He was
riding the grey horse, ye ken, and he seemed to catch sight o' ye all at
aince; when, thinking it wasna warth while for twa to be in trouble, I
hid myself in the bushes till he'd gone by."
The next day, one anxiously looked forward to by more than one of the
characters in this story, came in due course; and, towards evening, Lady
Gernon slowly passed through the hall door, basket in hand, and making
her way across the lawn, disappeared from the sight of Sandy McCray
behind some bushes at the edge of the park.
The hours sped on, and Ada Norton drove up in one of Chunt's flys from
the village public-house, after waiting some time at the Rectory, in a
vain endeavour to see Mr Elstree, who was from home. She had, after
many hours' thought, but a vague idea of the best plan to pursue, and
even now questioned the wisdom of her course. In fact, more than once
the check-string had been in her hand to arrest the driver, and order
him to return to the Hall; but, from sheer shame at her vacillation, she
let it fall again, and gazed slowly out from the fly-window at the
glorious sweep of the noble domain through which she was being driven,
and sighed again and again as she thought of the misery of its owners.
She half shrank from meeting Lady Gernon, for she felt that, in spite of
all her assurances to the contrary, her cousin must feel something of
repugnance to the woman who had, as it were, taken her place. Not that
she had robbed Lady Gernon of her happiness; she had been ready to
resign all hope, and had given up, stifling her own feelings, when duty
told her that she was called upon so to act. But could Marion feel the
same?
She asked herself that question as the fly drove up to the noble front
of the great mansion; and then, rousing herself for the task in hand,
she prepared to meet her cousin.
"Not at home," was the answer given by the footman to the driver; when
Ada beckoned the man to the fly door--a slow-speaking, insolent menial,
who had, before now, performed Sir Murray's liest in acting the part of
spy.
"I think," said Ada, "that my cousin would see me, even if she is
confined to her room."
"Sir Murray give orders, mum, that they were not at home to visitors
from the Hall; and, besides, my lady ain't in."
Ada Norton felt that it was cowardly, but it was with a sense of relief
that she sank back against the cushions, and began to turn over in her
mind what course she ought to pursue. She dreaded the exciting effect
it might have upon her husband, if she revealed to him the words she had
heard from Jane; and, trembling with an anxiety she could not drive
away, she returned to the Hall, to find that Captain Norton had gone
out.
"Packed a carpet bag, ma'am," said the servant, "and then wrote a note
for you, after sending for Master Brace, and kissing him."
The note was on the table, and snatching it up, Ada Norton read as
follows:--
"Dearest Ada,
"Do not think hardly of me. I could not help myself; but I know you
will not judge me harshly. More when I write again; but _give no
information of my movements to a soul_. I shall be away some time, but
I have made full arrangements with Garland and Son about you. Philip."
Abrupt, enigmatical, and strange; but it was like him. There was a vein
of affection, though, running through it all. He had made arrangements
for her; but the tears dimmed Ada Norton's eyes as she stood with the
letter in her hands. What could it all mean? she thought. Had it
anything to do with the mining transaction? Should she drive over to
Marshton the next day, and ask Messrs. Garland and Son, her husband's
solicitors? No, she would not do that; it would be like prying into his
affairs. She had always had faith in him, so far, and that faith should
continue to the end.
She dashed away the tears heroically, little thinking how soon and how
sorely she was to be tried. It was nothing new for Norton to absent
himself, and she could wait patiently for his return. "Like a good
wife," she said, smilingly; and then, sitting down, she took her work,
but only for it to fall into her lap, as she tried to divine what would
be her best plan to adopt in connection with the strange information
which had the day before been imparted to her.
Book 1, Chapter XXXV.