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I had just terminated the escape from the castle, when Mr Masterton's carriage drove up to the door. As soon as he had bowed to Lady de Clare, he said to me, "Japhet, here is a letter directed to you, to my care, from Ireland, which I have brought for you." "It is from Kathleen M'Shane, sir," replied I, and requesting leave, I broke the seal. It contained another.
The only thing in Masterton's favor, however, was that he was steadily increasing his distance from the group and the deputy sheriff, and so cutting off their connection with the messenger. But the trail grew more and more indistinct as it neared the summit, until at last it utterly vanished.
When I had quitted for Ireland, it was still supposed that I was a young man of large fortune the truth had not been told. I had acceded to Mr Masterton's suggestions, that I was no longer to appear under false colours, and had requested Harcourt, to whom I made known my real condition, that he would everywhere state the truth.
"In his weak, gross, sinful flesh yes, no doubt," returned the Deacon, scornfully, "and, perhaps, even in a worldly sense, for those who value the vanities of life; but he is lost to us, for all time, and lost to eternal life forever. Not," he continued in sanctimonious vindictiveness, "but that I often had my doubts of Brother Masterton's steadfastness. He was too much given to imagery and song."
In spite of the gradual emptying of London, Lady Masterton's rooms were very full. Marcella found acquaintances. Many of the people whom she had met at Mrs. Lane's, the two Cabinet Ministers of the House of Commons dinner, Mr. Lane himself all were glad or eager to recall themselves to her as she stood by Lady Winterbourne, or made her way half absently through the press.
I could not deny that Mr Masterton's arguments had demolished the whole fabric which I had built up. "You are right, sir," replied I mournfully. "I wish I were dead." "Never speak in that way, Mr Newland, before me," replied the old lawyer in an angry tone, "without you wish to forfeit my good opinion." "I beg your pardon, sir; but I am most miserable.
"Good God! is it possible!" thought I; "how strange that my own wild fancy should have settled upon him as my father!" I hurried away, threw myself into the hackney-coach, and desired the man to drive to Lincoln's Inn. I hastened up to Mr Masterton's rooms: he was fortunately at home, although he stood at the table with his hat and his great coat on, ready to go out.
He had gone to Lady Masterton's party, in the temper of a man who knows that ruin is upon him, and determined, like the French criminal, to exact his cigar and eau de vie before the knife falls. Never had things looked so desperate; never had all resource seemed to him so completely exhausted.
I arrived at Mr Masterton's, and walked into his room, when whom should I find in company with him but Harcourt. "Japhet, I'm glad to see you: allow me to introduce you to Mr Harcourt Mr De Benyon," and the old gentleman grinned maliciously, but I was not to be taken aback.
Our kind host, the successor of Masterton's, took us in his carriage across the Nith, through a scene of natural luxuriance and beauty not to be surpassed, and under a sun of as intense brilliancy as ever shone in these climes. Passing into a high side-valley, we soon left the glowing plains of Nithsdale behind.
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