"
The little girl had just quitted the room with her nurse, to be dressed
for her morning run in the gardens. Mrs. Morden and the captain were
alone.
"Lady Eversleigh asks me to go up to London," he said, at last; "and I
suppose I must do what she wishes. But, upon my word, I've watched over
little Gertrude so closely, and I've grown so foolishly fond of her,
that I don't like the idea of leaving her, even for twenty-four hours,
though, of course, I know I leave her in the best possible care."
"What danger can approach her here?"
"Ah; what danger, indeed!" returned the captain, thoughtfully. "Within
these walls she must be secure."
"The child shall not leave the castle, nor shall she quit my sight
during your absence," said Mrs. Morden. "But I hope you will not stay
away long."
"Rely upon it that I shall not remain away an hour longer than
necessary," answered the captain.
An hour afterwards he departed from Raynham in a post-chaise.
He left without having taken any farewell of Gertrude Eversleigh. He
could not trust himself to see her.
This grim, weather-beaten old soldier had surrendered his heart
entirely to the child of his dead friend. He travelled Londonwards as
fast as continual relays of post-horses could convey him; and on the
morning after he had received the letter from Lady Eversleigh, a post-
chaise covered with the dust of the roads, rattled up to the Clarendon
Hotel, and the traveller sprang out, after a sleepless night of
impatience and anxiety.
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