The Ashiel Mystery - Page 101/195

Even now the remembrance of the rapidity with which Miss Tarver had packed her traps, renounced her betrothed and all his works, and fled from the scene of disaster by the first available train, did much to cheer her in the midst of all her depression.

It was not, however, until some time after Lady Ruth Worsfold had asked her to stay with her for the present, and she had removed herself and her belongings to the cottage, that she realized how impossible it was for her to make good her position as Lord Ashlers daughter and heir. She had his word for it, and that was enough for her; but she understood, as soon as it occurred to her, that more would be required by the law before she could claim either the name or the inheritance which should be hers.

In the meantime, though touched by the generosity of the new Lord Ashiel, who offered to waive his rights in her favour, and indeed suggested other plans for enabling her to remain at the castle as its owner, she felt that what he proposed was absolutely impossible, and while she thanked him, declined firmly to do anything of the sort.

At the back of her mind was the conviction that the will her father had spoken of would come to light. It would surely be found, if not by herself, then by Gimblet. She acceded to Mark's request that she should join him in looking through his uncle's papers. They went over those in the library together before she left the house.

Now that Gimblet had come back from the castle, where he had spent half the day, he must have good news for her, she felt persuaded. But to all her questions he would only reply that he had nothing definite to tell her, and that she must wait till to-morrow or even longer. Indeed, she thought he seemed anxious to get away from her, and asked at once if he might see his room.

"I want a bath more than anything," he said. And then, taking pity on her distress, "I wouldn't worry myself too much about Sir David's safety if I were you," he added, looking at her with a very kind, friendly light in his eyes. But as she exclaimed joyfully and pressed him to be more explicit, his look changed to one of admonition, and he held a finger to his lips. "Not a word to a living soul, whoever it may be," he cautioned her, "and be careful not to show any hope you may be so optimistic as to feel," he added, smiling, "or you may ruin the whole thing. This is a very dark and dangerous affair, and the less it is spoken about, even between friends, the better."