Caleb and another servant, charged by Foxwell to attend the departing guest to the gate, were at the door. Everell handed each a coin, and the second man ran ahead to open the gate. Everell was following across the dark courtyard, when he bethought him of the services of Prudence. He turned back to the light of the open doorway, selected a gold piece, and asked Caleb to convey it to the maid.
“If it please your Honour, sir, asking your pardon, may I call Miss Prudence to receive it herself?” said Caleb; “’twill take but a minute.”
Perceiving that the valet was averse to the trust, Everell acquiesced. The idea then came to him that he might utilize the brief delay by writing a message of farewell to Georgiana: there could be no objection to a few written words of love and faith, which Prudence might deliver at a suitable time. Everell strode into the dining-room.
Nobody else was there, for Foxwell had returned to the drawing-room to pen a letter which should accompany Georgiana’s to Thornby. He had begun to apologize to Rashleigh and Mrs. Winter for the long trial he had put upon their patience.
“You might at least have left the door ajar, that we could have heard your fine scenes yonder,” said Mrs. Winter.
“So I might have done, I own,” replied Foxwell.
“Yes; as you didn’t, we thought ourselves justified in listening at the keyhole.”
“Well, if you didn’t listen, Rashleigh, you certainly didn’t stop my telling you what I heard.”
“Then you know what has happened?” queried Foxwell.
“I could make a good guess at the general event,” answered the lady. “The rebel goes free, and pretty Georgiana marries for love.”
“For love!” said Foxwell. “Hardly so, I fear.”
“Certainly. For love of one man, she marries another. ’Tis often done—especially in France. ’Tis a plan that has its beauties.”
“I’m afraid Georgiana is too English to see its beauties,” said Rashleigh, as Foxwell sat down to write his letter.
Return we to another writer, in the adjoining room. Everell had found the book from which Georgiana had been reading to him, which he had dropped in going to support her when she seemed about to faint. He had scarce begun to pencil his message on a blank leaf, when Prudence looked in at the door.