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Updated: September 27, 2025
To any one who has been, during the hot summer months, pent up in London, there is in the first taste of rustic life a kind of sensuous rapture scarcely to be described. George Talboys felt this, and in this he experienced the nearest approach to enjoyment that he had ever known since his wife's death. The clock struck five as they finished dinner.
When day after day passed by, and the Dodds were not invited, it flashed through her mind, first, that there must be some reason for this; secondly, that she had only to take no notice, and the reason, if any, would be sure to pop out. She half suspected Talboys, but gave him no sign of suspicion.
George's face blanched to a deadly whiteness. "Talboys," he said; "perhaps you didn't hear the name distinctly T, A, L, B, O, Y, S. Go and look again, there must be a letter." The waiter shrugged his shoulders as he left the room, and returned in three minutes to say that there was no name at all resembling Talboys in the letter rack.
Talboys to call the very next day at one o'clock to see what was being done under cover of trigonometry. He found Mr. and Miss Fountain just sitting down to luncheon. David and Arthur were actually together somewhere, perhaps going through the farce of geometry. He was half vexed at finding no food for his suspicions.
All this was very well, and then O'Brien helped her down; but after this there was no separating them. For her own part she would sooner have had Mackinnon at her elbow. But Mackinnon now had found some other elbow. "Enough of that was as good as a feast," he had said to his wife. And therefore Mrs. Talboys, quite unconscious of evil, allowed herself to be engrossed by O'Brien.
"I solemnly declare to you that I cannot understand; and I do not believe that George Talboys is dead." "I would give ten years of my own life if I could see him alive," answered Robert, sadly. "I am sorry for you, Mr. Malden I am sorry for all of us." "I do not believe that my son-in-law is dead," said the lieutenant; "I do not believe that the poor lad is dead."
Before leaving England, Robert wrote to his cousin Alicia, telling her of his intended departure with his old friend George Talboys, whom he had lately met for the first time after a lapse of years, and who had just lost his wife. Alicia's reply came by return post, and ran thus: "MY DEAR ROBERT How cruel of you to run away to that horrid St. Petersburg before the hunting season!
Alicia shows me a letter from my lady, in which she requests to be told when I and my friend, Mr. Talboys, mean to leave Essex. To this letter is subjoined a postscript, reiterating the above request." We call at the Court, and ask to see the house. My lady's apartments are locked." We get at the aforesaid apartments by means of a secret passage, the existence of which is unknown to my lady.
Then, seeing that Talboys was mortified at being told thus gently there was a department of learning he had not fathomed, he added: "At all events, I can interpret my own niece to you. I have known her much longer than you have." Mr. Talboys requested the interpreter to explain the pleasure his niece took in Mr. Dodd's fiddle. "Part politeness, part sham.
Audley," she cried; "you have used your power basely and cruelly, and have brought me to a living grave." "I have done that which I thought just to others and merciful to you," Robert answered, quietly. "I should have been a traitor to society had I suffered you to remain at liberty after the disappearance of George Talboys and the fire at Castle Inn.
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