But a couple of days passed, and she did not hear either from Reginald
or Mr. Rolfe. That made her a little anxious.
On the third day Compton asked her, with an angry flush on his brow,
whether she had not sent Reginald up to London.
"Yes, dear," said Lady Bassett.
"Well, he is not gone, then."
"Oh!"
"He is living at his nurse's. I saw him talking to an old gypsy that
lives on the farm."
Lady Bassett groaned, but said nothing.
"Never mind, mamma," said Compton. "Your other children must love you
all the more."
This news caused Lady Bassett both anxiety and terror. She divined bad
faith and all manner of treachery, none the less terrible for being
vague.
Down went her health again and her short-lived repose.
Meantime Reginald, in reality, was staying at the farm on a little
business of his own.
He had concerted an expedition with the foreign gent, and was waiting
for a dark and gusty night.
He had undertaken this expedition with mixed motives, spite and greed,
especially the latter. He would never have undertaken it with a 500
pound check in his pocket; but some minds are so constituted they
cannot forego a bad design once formed: so Mr. Reginald persisted,
though one great motive existed no longer.
On this expedition it is now our lot to accompany him.
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