But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. "Ah! I see. But at least it gave her more time. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. Hence!" "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, in a voice, the tones of which were altered by his very anxiety to make them distinct, "listen to me. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not.
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