The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. Jonathan, however, was well acquainted with the road. Anna was more difficult. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though, now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the negative; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words,—"You are known by the villagers,—be upon your guard,"—he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course. ’ Her lips parted, but she did not speak. “I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. “To the best of my belief,” she said, with quiet dignity, “I have never seen either of you before in my life. Anna lied to you, I lied to you. “I may as well come up by this train. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed.
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