"I mean gone, never to come back."

"Good gracious, Phineas! Do you think he knows?"

"It is impossible to say; but he has had ten thousand pounds in hard cash."

"The wretch!"

"And I suppose I shall have to be answerable for the amount to the rightful heir."

"Why, Phineas, it would half ruin you if you had to pay."

"Yes," said the old man dolefully.

"But you think this is the right man?"

"Yes, Rachel; and I'm afraid I have got myself in a dreadful mess."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

"THERE IT IS AGAIN."

"My dear Gertrude, I did not oppose you after you had made up your mind to carry out your guardian's wishes; but I'm so pleased with the way in which things have turned out that I hardly know what to say."

"But you forget, Mrs Hampton; you forget that I have promised to be that man's wife."

"Well, what of that, my dear?"

"What of that?"

"Yes; you are a woman, aren't you?"

"Of course, but--"

"Well, say you won't have him. n.o.body can force you to. What's the good of being a woman if you can't have your own way about the man you marry?"

"Hark!" cried Gertrude, "the bell!" and she turned quite pale. "It must be he."

"Which he?" cried the old woman shortly. "Can't be our Mr George Harrington, because he was to go to Lincoln's Inn about this time. And I don't believe it is likely to be the other. He'll never come back at all. Oh, the pest?"

Mrs Denton looked from one to the other with a satisfied air, as she handed the letter she brought in to Gertrude, her air suggesting that she expected to be spoken to; but as nothing was said, she shrugged her shoulders and left the room.

"From Saul Harrington," said Gertrude, opening the letter with trembling hands.

It was dated the previous day from a well-known hotel in Paris, and very brief.

He hoped his dear little cousin would be glad to hear he had reached Paris all right, and was having lovely weather. He said that the gay city was full of temptations, but he was going to resist them all, and leave in forty-eight hours for Chamounix, which he should make his headquarters till he went on to the Tyrol.

"Tell George," he continued, "that I consider he has lost his manliness in pinning himself to your ap.r.o.n till the happy day. He had far better join me out here for a good tramp. If he likes to alter his mind he can easily catch up to me, and I faithfully promise to send him bark in ample time for a certain event. Under the circ.u.mstances I shall probably not return till after you are married, so forgive my absence.

I wish you every happiness."

"Then that man has not joined him yet, my dear."

"No, Mrs Hampton. Is it not very strange?"

"Very, my dear."

"Why do you speak like that? It is as if you had some hidden meaning."

"I only think that he did not go and join him."

Gertrude looked at her rather curiously, and then said in an eager way:

"It would be easy to find out if he has joined him since."

"By telegraphing. Are you going to do this?"

Gertrude shook her head.

"Would you like me to send a message?"

"Yes--no--I hardly know what to say."

Mrs Hampton stuck her ball of wool on the point of the shining knitting-pin she held, and spun it round for a few times.

"It would be satisfactory for everybody to know," she said at last.

"Ring the bell, my dear, and I'll send a message."

The message was despatched, and after a long discussion as to the probabilities of reaching Saul Harrington before he left for Switzerland, and how soon an answer might be expected, they settled down to the daily routine of their lives. One duty now was Gertrude's nursing of the injured dog, who seemed, as he lay on the soft hay bed in the stable, very near his end. He lay for hours together without stirring, till he heard his mistress' step, and then he uttered a low whine, and feebly raised his head as his eyes sought hers before he lowered his muzzle again, as if it was too heavy for the strength he had left.

Gertrude let many a tear fall upon the poor brute's head as she patted it gently and bandaged the wound, the dog submitting to what must have been a painful operation without so much as a whine, till the time came when he could get his head in his mistress' lap, and sink into a kind of stupor more than sleep.

That day wore by, and there was no answer to the telegram. Then came the dinner hour, and with it the old lawyer, but not alone, Doctor Lawrence having once more accompanied him down to The Mynns.

Their looks spoke volumes, but little was said till they were seated over the dessert; when, in response to one of Gertrude's inquiring looks, the Doctor leaned towards her, took her hand, and said gravely:

"My dear child, I have said nothing, because I seem to have nothing to say."

"But tell me what you think," said Gertrude imploringly.

"Well, my dear, I think--but it must not influence us in any degree-- that this young man really is George Harrington."

Gertrude tried to stifle the emotion she felt, as the doctor went on:

"It is a puzzling business, my dear. We have had a very long interview at Hampton's chambers, and he certainly has impressed me strangely. Our friend here is like a rock, and he has been piling on to my head stories of impostures, and cases where pretenders have come forward, till I am completely bewildered."

"Then if he is not the true George Harrington, let George Harrington himself come forward and say so. Why doesn't he come back, instead of running off in this mysterious way?"