第167章

"I will," said Mr. Carlyle. "I will so far pave the way for you. That done, my interference is over."

"How will he go about it, think you, if he does take it up?"

"That is his affair. I know how I should."

"How, sir?"

"You cannot expect me to say, Richard. I might as well act for you."

"I know. You'd go at it slap-dash, and arrest Levison offhand on the charge."

A smile parted Mr. Carlyle's lips, for Dick had just guessed it. But his countenance gave no clue by which anything could be gathered.

A thought flashed across Richard's mind; a thought which rose up on end even his false hair. "Mr. Carlyle," he uttered, in an accent of horror, "if Ball should take it up in that way against Levison, he must apply to the bench for a warrant."

"Well?" quietly returned Mr. Carlyle.

"And they'd send and clap me into prison. You know the warrant is always out against me."

"You'd never make a conjurer, Richard. I don't pretend to say, or guess at, what Ball's proceedings may be. But, in applying to the bench for a warrant against Levison--should that form part of them--is there any necessity for him to bring you in--to say: 'Gentlemen, Richard Hare is within reach, ready to be taken?' Your fears run away with your common sense, Richard."

"Ah, well, if you had lived with the cord around your neck this many a year, not knowing any one hour but it might get tied the next, you'd lose your common sense, too, at times," humbly sighed poor Richard.

"What's to be my first move, sir?"

"Your first move, Richard, must be to go to this place of concealment, which you know of, and remain quiet there until Monday. On Monday, at dusk, be here again. Meanwhile, I will see Ball. By the way, though, before speaking to Ball, I must hear from yourself that Thorn and Levison are one."

"I will go down to the Raven at once," eagerly cried Richard. "I'll come back here, to this walk, as soon as I have obtained sight of him." With the last words he turned, and was speeding off, when Barbara caught him.

"You will be so tired, Richard."

"Tired!" echoed Richard Hare. "A hundred miles on foot would not tire me if Thorn was at the end of them, waiting to be identified. I may not be back for two or three hours, but I will come, and wait here till you come out to me."

"You must be hungry and thirsty," returned Barbara, the tears in her eyes. "How I wish we dare have you in, and shelter you. But I can manage to bring some refreshments out here."

"I don't require it, Barbara. I left the train at the station next before West Lynne, and dropped into a roadside public house as I walked, and got a good supper. Let me go, dear, I am all in a fever."

Richard departed, reached the part of West Lynne where the Raven was situated, and was so far favored by fortune that he had not long to wait. Scarcely had he taken up his lounge outside, when two gentlemen came forth from it, arm-in-arm. Being the headquarters of one of the candidates, the idlers of the place thought they could not do better than make it their headquarters also, and the road and pavement were never free from loitering starers and gossipers. Richard Hare, his hat well over his eyes, and his black ringlets made the most of, only added one to the rest.

Two gentlemen came forth, arm-in-arm. The loiterers raised a feeble shout of "Levison forever!" Richard did not join in the shout, but his pulses were beating, and his heart leaped up within him. The one was Thorn; the other the gentleman he had seen with Thorn in London, pointed out to him--as he had believed--as Sir Francis Levison.

"Which of those two is Levison?" he inquired of a man near whom he stood.

"Don't you know him? Him with the hat off, bowing his thanks to us, is Levison."

No need to inquire further. It was the Thorn of Richard's memory. His ungloved hand, raised to his hat, was as white as ever; more sparkling than ever, as it flashed in the street gaslight, was the diamond ring.

By the hand and ring alone Richard would have sworn to the man, had it been needful.

"Who is the other one?" he continued.

"Some gent as came down from London with him. His name's Drake. Be you yellow, sailor, or be you scarlet-and-purple?"

"I am neither. I am only a stranger, passing through the town."

"On the tramp?"

"Tramp? No." And Richard moved away, to make the best of his progress to East Lynne and report to Mr. Carlyle.

Now it happened, on that windy night, that Lady Isabel, her mind disordered, her brow fevered with its weight of care, stole out into the grounds, after the children had left her for the night, courting any discomfort she might meet. As if they could, even for a moment, cool the fire within! To the solitude of this very covered walk bent she her steps; and, not long had she paced it, when she descried some man advancing, in the garb of a sailor. Not caring to be seen, she turned short off amidst the trees, intending to emerge again when he had passed. She wondered who he was, and what brought him there.

But he did not pass. He lingered in the walk, keeping her a prisoner.

A minute more and she saw him joined by Mrs. Carlyle. They met with a loving embrace.

Embrace a strange man? Mrs. Carlyle? All the blood in Lady Isabel's body rushed to her brain. Was she, his second wife, false to him--more shamelessly false than even herself had been, inasmuch as she had had the grace to quit him and East Lynne before--as the servant girls say, when they change their sweethearts--"taking up" with another? The positive conviction that such was the case seized firm hold upon her fancy; her thoughts were in a tumult, her mind was a chaos. Was there any small corner of rejoicing in her heart that it was so? And yet, what was it to her? It could not alter by one iota her own position--it could not restore to her the love she had forfeited.

Coupled lovingly together, they were now sauntering up the walk, the sailor's arm thrown round the waist of Mrs. Carlyle. "Oh! The shameless woman!" Ay; she could be bitter enough upon graceless doings when enacted by another.