An angel guard-- Chariots of fire, horses of fire encamp, To keep thee safe. --MRS. ELLET.
It was eleven o'clock that night when the Rev. Mr. Lyle and Mr. Brent reached Blue Cliffs on their return from Wendover.
Of course all the guests of the bridal reception had long since gone away. The house was closed and all the windows were dark except those of the library, where the gentlemen found the two brides and their hostess sitting up and awaiting their return.
"Where is Alden? Is he not with you?" anxiously inquired Emma, coming to meet them.
"Our friend might certainly have come back with us if he had chosen to do so; but he deemed it better to remain at Wendover to-night, and we agreed with him. He is at my house," answered Mr. Lyle.
"You have something painful to tell me. I beg you will tell it at once," said Emma, turning very pale, but controlling herself perfectly and speaking with calmness.
"Something ridiculous, if it were not so outrageous, I should say, dear Mrs. Lytton. Is there a light in the parlor?"
"Then come with me there and I will tell you all about it," answered Mr. Lyle, speaking cheerfully, as he offered his arm to Emma.
They left the room together and went to the parlor, where a lamp was burning low and shedding a dim light around.
Mr. Lyle led his hostess to a sofa, where he sat down beside her.
And then and there he told her the whole history of the charge that had been brought against her husband, as it came out upon the preliminary examination.
Emma listened in unspeakable grief, horror, amazement and mortification. Yet with all these strong emotions struggling in her bosom, she controlled herself so far as to preserve her outward composure and answer with calmness.
"And Mary Grey claims to be _his wife_? I should think the woman were raving mad, but for the plausible testimony she has managed to bring together. As it is, I am forced to look upon this in the same light that you do, as a base conspiracy, in which she has found some skillful confederates. Of course it must be only the embarrassment and mortification of a few days and then the whole plot must be exposed. Such a plot can not, certainly, bear a thorough investigation," she said.
But though she spoke so confidently, and believed all that she said, yet her face continued deathly pale and her hands were clutched closely together on her lap.