192
THE TENANT
dead leaves on the lawn, to take him to the stables.
My companion gravely took my arm, and leading me away to the garden, thus answered my question:—
"She is at Grass-dale manor, in —— shire."
"Where?" cried I, with a convulsive start.
"At Grass-dale manor."
"How was it?" I gasped. "Who betrayed her?"
"She went of her own accord."
"Impossible, Lawrence!! She could not be so frantic!" exclaimed I, vehemently grasping his arm, as if to force him to unsay those hateful words.
"She did," persisted he in the same grave, collected manner as before—"and not without reason," he continued, gently disengaging himself from my grasp: "Mr. Huntingdon is ill."
"And so she went to nurse him?"
"Yes."
"Fool!" I could not help exclaiming—and
