Just then a gentleman arrested him, and kept him in conversation upon some political matter for quite a quarter of an hour, his courtly politeness even now preventing him from hurrying away; but at length, with a sinking at his heart, he stepped into the conservatory to see several friends enjoying the soft coolness of the flower-scented place; but those whom he sought were not there.
He turned to leave—a strange feeling of excitement making his breast to throb, and the blood to flush giddily to his head. He passed through the different well-lit rooms, but without seeing the pair of whom he was in quest; and, scarcely in command of his actions, he was about to make some eager inquiry, when Gurdon approached, bearing a small tray with tea.
“Looking for my lady, Sir Murray?” he said. “She’s at the back of the orangery with Captain Norton.”
John Gurdon’s eyes glittered as he spoke, for he was sobered now by the former meeting with his master, and the excitement of what was in his mind. Sir Murray knew that the man saw his emotion, but he could not hide it then; and with a muttered oath he once more entered the conservatory, but had not advanced more than a few paces when he became aware that he was followed.
Turning upon the instant, he found that Gurdon was close behind him with the tray.
“Go back into the drawing-room!” he said, sternly, though he repented his speech the next minute, for, with a meaning smile, the man met his eye, and then stopped short, but made no movement to return.
Gurdon was right; for on turning a corner, Sir Murray came suddenly upon Lady Gernon seated by Captain Norton’s side. Her head was bent, and the tears were falling fast, while he was speaking to her earnestly. There was no one near: the voices from the crowded rooms came only in a murmur. They, too, were speaking in soft and subdued tones. But one word fell upon Sir Murray’s ear, and that word was “love!” He heard neither the preceding nor the concluding spread over the brightly-tiled floor—he was standing by their side before they were aware of his approach, when, with a start of dread, Lady Gernon half rose from her seat, but only to sink back, gazing at her husband.
For a few moments Sir Murray stood, unable to speak in the calm tones he desired; for even then he dreaded a scene and the comments of his guests, when—approaching quite unheard, so that he, too, was in the midst of the group before his presence was noticed—Gurdon appeared, to look full in his master’s face as he handed the tray he bore.
“Tea, sir?” he said.
“Stand back!” exclaimed Sir Murray, fiercely, and with his raised hand he struck the man heavily across the chest, causing him to stagger back, and the tray fell with a crash upon the floor.
“You shall pay for this!” muttered the man, rising, but only to drop on one knee, napkin in hand, the next moment, and commence gathering up the fragments.
“Leave this place, sir, this instant!” exclaimed Sir Murray, fiercely; and muttering still, but with a supercilious leer at all present, Gurdon slouched off, passing between the assembled guests, who, alarmed by the crash and loud, angry words, were now inquiring the cause.
“Nothing—nothing wrong,” exclaimed Sir Murray, with a ghastly show of being at ease. “A drunken servant, that is all. Lady Gernon, let me take you into the drawing-room.”
Glances were exchanged; but the sullen countenance of Gurdon, the spilled tea, and the broken cups and saucers, afforded sufficient explanation, and the visitors slowly filtered back into the different rooms, in one of which another accident had taken place.
As Sir Murray, trembling with suppressed anger, entered the inner drawing-room, known as the blue-room, he saw Gurdon, napkin and tray in hand, standing as if waiting his coming, his face breaking into a mocking smile upon his master’s entrance, closely followed by Captain Norton, who, so far, had not spoken a word.
“Go to your mother, Marion,” said Sir Murray. “I must have a few more words with this man.”
“With whom?” exclaimed Lady Gernon. “With my servant, madam,” said Sir Murray, loudly. “Not with Captain Norton now. But where is your cross?”
“My cross!” stammered Lady Gernon; and her hand involuntarily sought the place where it had hung. “I had it when I—when—”
“Yes, when you entered the conservatory,” said Sir Murray, a suspicion crossing his breast; “but where is it now?”
“I do not know!” exclaimed Lady Gernon, whose agitation became extreme.
The rumour of the failing mines; Captain Norton’s poverty; his own jealousy; thought after thought flashed across Sir Murray Gernon’s brain in an instant of time.
“Go to your guests,” he said sternly. “There are people coming this way, and I wish to avoid a scene. James,” he said, beckoning to a footman, “see that man, Gurdon, into the little garden-room, lock him up, and then fetch a constable.”
“What for—what for?” said Gurdon, loudly. “You don’t think, do you, that I’ve got the cross?”
“Silence, sir! Take him away!” exclaimed Sir Murray, sternly. Then, turning to Captain Norton, he said in a whisper, “There are two things in this world, Philip Norton, that I value: my honour and those old family jewels.”
“I am attending to your words,” said Norton, coldly; for he had just met an imploring look from Marion.
“I told you, Lady Gernon, to go to your guests!” said Sir Murray, in an angry whisper.
“No, Murray,” she said. “I shall stay!”
“In Heaven’s name, then, stay!” he said, angrily, “and hear what I would say. I value my honour and those family jewels, Captain Norton,” he continued, facing his guest; “and the man who filches from me one or the other does so at the risk of his life!”
“What!” exclaimed Lady Gernon, with a horrified aspect, “do you for a moment suppose, Murray, that Captain Norton—”
“Where is that sapphire cross?” exclaimed Sir Murray.
“Indeed—indeed—”
“Silence, madam! I will have no scene!” hissed Sir Murray, angrily. “You, as my wife, hold those jewels in trust for me; and I should hold him who took them, even as a gift, as a robber of what is mine.”
“Sir Murray Gernon, you are mad!” exclaimed Norton—“you know not what you say, and—Hush! sir, no words. Lady Gernon has fainted!”
An Encounter.
Sir Murray Gernon had expressed a desire that there should be no scene, but his wish was of no avail, for in a few moments an excited group had collected round his wife. Salts, vinegar, and cold water were sought and applied; but, fortunately, one of the guests was the medical adviser of the family.
“Bed, Sir Murray—empty house—quiet—and,” he said, meaningly, “all going well, I may be able to offer you congratulations before morning.”
Half an hour after, the house was vacated by the last guest, and before morning had dawned the tidings were borne to Sir Murray Gernon that his lady had given birth to a daughter, but that from her ladyship’s critical state Dr. Challen wished for further advice, and for a fellow-practitioner to share the burden of his responsibility.
Messages were sent; and in the course of a few hours there was a consultation held respecting Lady Gernon’s state—a consultation over which the medical practitioners shook their heads solemnly. The child was healthy; but its mother still existed, that was all.
Mrs. Norton was at her side, where she insisted upon staying for days, in spite of a request from Sir Murray that she would leave; and now it was that for the first time she heard of the loss of the jewels from Jane Barker, who told her, with many sobs, that Gurdon had been suspected by Sir Murray, who had sent for a constable; but