Rolfe.
At night he talked this strange business over with Mr. Rolfe.
That gentleman thought she must have gone to Huntercombe; but by the
last post a letter came from Suaby, inclosing one from Lady Bassett to
her husband.
"119 Gloucester Place.
"DARLING--The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot sleep for the
noise. We think of creeping toward home to-morrow, in an easy carriage.
Pray God you may soon meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first journey
will be to that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you and
I were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall soon
be again, I hope.
"Your devoted wife.
"BELLA BASSETT.
"My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing."
Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, but Rolfe
persuaded him not. "And mind," said he, "the faithful pugilists must go
with you."
The morning's post rendered that needless. It brought another letter
from Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the Commissioners had positively
discharged Sir Charles, and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett.
Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who was to be his bosom
friend for life, and proceeded to hunt his wife.
She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a stanch hound, and
when he stopped at a certain inn, some twenty miles from Huntercombe, a
window opened, there was a strange loving scream; he looked up, and saw
his wife's radiant face, and her figure ready to fly down to him.
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