After only one week of travelling in Scotland, my lord and my ladyreturned unexpectedly to London. Introduced to the mountains andlakes of the Highlands, her ladyship positively declined to improveher acquaintance with them. When she was asked for her reason,she answered with a Roman brevity, 'I have seen Switzerland.'

For a week more, the newly-married couple remained in London,in the strictest retirement. On one day in that week the nursereturned in a state of most uncustomary excitement from an errand onwhich Agnes had sent her. Passing the door of a fashionable dentist,she had met Lord Montbarry himself just leaving the house.The good woman's report described him, with malicious pleasure,as looking wretchedly ill. 'His cheeks are getting hollow,my dear, and his beard is turning grey. I hope the dentisthurt him!'

Knowing how heartily her faithful old servant hated the man whohad deserted her, Agnes made due allowance for a large infusionof exaggeration in the picture presented to her. The main impressionproduced on her mind was an impression of nervous uneasiness.If she trusted herself in the streets by daylight while LordMontbarry remained in London, how could she be sure that his nextchance-meeting might not be a meeting with herself? She waited at home,privately ashamed of her own undignified conduct, for the next two days.On the third day the fashionable intelligence of the newspapersannounced the departure of Lord and Lady Montbarry for Paris,on their way to Italy.

Mrs. Ferrari, calling the same evening, informed Agnes that her husbandhad left her with all reasonable expression of conjugal kindness;his temper being improved by the prospect of going abroad.But one other servant accompanied the travellers--Lady Montbarry's maid,rather a silent, unsociable woman, so far as Emily had heard.Her ladyship's brother, Baron Rivar, was already on the Continent.It had been arranged that he was to meet his sister and her husbandat Rome.

One by one the dull weeks succeeded each other in the life of Agnes.She faced her position with admirable courage, seeing her friends,keeping herself occupied in her leisure hours with reading and drawing,leaving no means untried of diverting her mind from the melancholyremembrance of the past. But she had loved too faithfully,she had been wounded too deeply, to feel in any adequate degreethe influence of the moral remedies which she employed.Persons who met with her in the ordinary relations of life,deceived by her outward serenity of manner, agreed that 'MissLockwood seemed to be getting over her disappointment.'But an old friend and school companion who happened to see her duringa brief visit to London, was inexpressibly distressed by the changethat she detected in Agnes. This lady was Mrs. Westwick, the wifeof that brother of Lord Montbarry who came next to him in age,and who was described in the 'Peerage' as presumptive heir to the title.He was then away, looking after his interests in some mining propertywhich he possessed in America. Mrs. Westwick insisted on taking Agnesback with her to her home in Ireland. 'Come and keep me companywhile my husband is away. My three little girls will make youtheir playfellow, and the only stranger you will meet is the governess,whom I answer for your liking beforehand. Pack up your things,and I will call for you to-morrow on my way to the train.'In those hearty terms the invitation was given. Agnes thankfullyaccepted it. For three happy months she lived under the roofof her friend. The girls hung round her in tears at her departure;the youngest of them wanted to go back with Agnes to London.Half in jest, half in earnest, she said to her old friend at parting,'If your governess leaves you, keep the place open for me.'Mrs. Westwick laughed. The wiser children took it seriously,and promised to let Agnes know.

On the very day when Miss Lockwood returned to London, she was recalledto those associations with the past which she was most anxious to forget.After the first kissings and greetings were over, the old nurse(who had been left in charge at the lodgings) had some startlinginformation to communicate, derived from the courier's wife.

'Here has been little Mrs. Ferrari, my dear, in a dreadful stateof mind, inquiring when you would be back. Her husband has leftLord Montbarry, without a word of warning--and nobody knows what hasbecome of him.'

Agnes looked at her in astonishment. 'Are you sure of what youare saying?' she asked.

The nurse was quite sure. 'Why, Lord bless you! the news comesfrom the couriers' office in Golden Square--from the secretary,Miss Agnes, the secretary himself!' Hearing this, Agnes began to feelalarmed as well as surprised. It was still early in the evening.She at once sent a message to Mrs. Ferrari, to say that shehad returned.

In an hour more the courier's wife appeared, in a state of agitationwhich it was not easy to control. Her narrative, when she was at lastable to speak connectedly, entirely confirmed the nurse's report of it.

After hearing from her husband with tolerable regularity from Paris,Rome, and Venice, Emily had twice written to him afterwards--and had received no reply. Feeling uneasy, she had gone to the officein Golden Square, to inquire if he had been heard of there.The post of the morning had brought a letter to the secretary froma courier then at Venice. It contained startling news of Ferrari.His wife had been allowed to take a copy of it, which she now handed toAgnes to read.

The writer stated that he had recently arrived in Venice.He had previously heard that Ferrari was with Lord and Lady Montbarry,at one of the old Venetian palaces which they had hired for a term.Being a friend of Ferrari, he had gone to pay him a visit.Ringing at the door that opened on the canal, and failing to makeanyone hear him, he had gone round to a side entrance openingon one of the narrow lanes of Venice. Here, standing at the door(as if she was waiting for him to try that way next), he found a palewoman with magnificent dark eyes, who proved to be no other than LadyMontbarry herself.

She asked, in Italian, what he wanted. He answered that he wantedto see the courier Ferrari, if it was quite convenient.She at once informed him that Ferrari had left the palace,without assigning any reason, and without even leaving an address atwhich his monthly salary (then due to him) could be paid. Amazed atthis reply, the courier inquired if any person had offended Ferrari,or quarrelled with him. The lady answered, 'To my knowledge,certainly not. I am Lady Montbarry; and I can positively assure youthat Ferrari was treated with the greatest kindness in this house.We are as much astonished as you are at his extraordinary disappearance.If you should hear of him, pray let us know, so that we may at leastpay him the money which is due.'

After one or two more questions (quite readily answered) relating tothe date and the time of day at which Ferrari had left the palace,the courier took his leave.

He at once entered on the necessary investigations--without the slightestresult so far as Ferrari was concerned. Nobody had seen him.Nobody appeared to have been taken into his confidence.Nobody knew anything (that is to say, anything of the slightest importance)even about persons so distinguished as Lord and Lady Montbarry.It was reported that her ladyship's English maid had left her,before the disappearance of Ferrari, to return to her relatives in herown country, and that Lady Montbarry had taken no steps to supplyher place. His lordship was described as being in delicate health.He lived in the strictest retirement--nobody was admitted to him,not even his own countrymen. A stupid old woman was discoveredwho did the housework at the palace, arriving in the morning andgoing away again at night. She had never seen the lost courier--she had never even seen Lord Montbarry, who was then confinedto his room. Her ladyship, 'a most gracious and adorable mistress,'was in constant attendance on her noble husband. There was noother servant then in the house (so far as the old woman knew)but herself. The meals were sent in from a restaurant. My lord,it was said, disliked strangers. My lord's brother-in-law, the Baron,was generally shut up in a remote part of the palace, occupied(the gracious mistress said) with experiments in chemistry.The experiments sometimes made a nasty smell. A doctor had latterly beencalled in to his lordship--an Italian doctor, long resident in Venice.Inquiries being addressed to this gentleman (a physician of undoubtedcapacity and respectability), it turned out that he also had neverseen Ferrari, having been summoned to the palace (as his memorandumbook showed) at a date subsequent to the courier's disappearance.The doctor described Lord Montbarry's malady as bronchitis.So far, there was no reason to feel any anxiety, though theattack was a sharp one. If alarming symptoms should appear,he had arranged with her ladyship to call in another physician.For the rest, it was impossible to speak too highly of my lady;night and day, she was at her lord's bedside.

With these particulars began and ended the discoveries made by Ferrari'scourier-friend. The police were on the look-out for the lost man--and that was the only hope which could be held forth for the present,to Ferrari's wife.

'What do you think of it, Miss?' the poor woman asked eagerly.'What would you advise me to do?'

Agnes was at a loss how to answer her; it was an effort even tolisten to what Emily was saying. The references in the courier'sletter to Montbarry--the report of his illness, the melancholypicture of his secluded life--had reopened the old wound.She was not even thinking of the lost Ferrari; her mind was at Venice,by the sick man's bedside.

'I hardly know what to say,' she answered. 'I have had no experiencein serious matters of this kind.'

'Do you think it would help you, Miss, if you read my husband'sletters to me? There are only three of them--they won't take longto read.'

Agnes compassionately read the letters.

They were not written in a very tender tone. 'Dear Emily,'and 'Yours affectionately'--these conventional phrases,were the only phrases of endearment which they contained.In the first letter, Lord Montbarry was not very favourably spokenof:--'We leave Paris to-morrow. I don't much like my lord.He is proud and cold, and, between ourselves, stingy in money matters.I have had to dispute such trifles as a few centimes in the hotel bill;and twice already, some sharp remarks have passed betweenthe newly-married couple, in consequence of her ladyship's freedomin purchasing pretty tempting things at the shops in Paris."I can't afford it; you must keep to your allowance." She has had tohear those words already. For my part, I like her. She has the nice,easy foreign manners--she talks to me as if I was a human beinglike herself.'

The second letter was dated from Rome.

'My lord's caprices' (Ferrari wrote) 'have kept us perpetuallyon the move. He is becoming incurably restless. I suspect he isuneasy in his mind. Painful recollections, I should say--I find himconstantly reading old letters, when her ladyship is not present.We were to have stopped at Genoa, but he hurried us on. The samething at Florence. Here, at Rome, my lady insists on resting.Her brother has met us at this place. There has been a quarrel already(the lady's maid tells me) between my lord and the Baron. The latterwanted to borrow money of the former. His lordship refused in languagewhich offended Baron Rivar. My lady pacified them, and made themshake hands.'

The third, and last letter, was from Venice.

'More of my lord's economy! Instead of staying at the hotel,we have hired a damp, mouldy, rambling old palace. My lady insistson having the best suites of rooms wherever we go--and the palacecomes cheaper for a two months' term. My lord tried to get itfor longer; he says the quiet of Venice is good for his nerves.But a foreign speculator has secured the palace, and is going to turnit into an hotel. The Baron is still with us, and there have beenmore disagreements about money matters. I don't like the Baron--and I don't find the attractions of my lady grow on me. She was muchnicer before the Baron joined us. My lord is a punctual paymaster;it's a matter of honour with him; he hates parting with his money,but he does it because he has given his word. I receive my salaryregularly at the end of each month--not a franc extra, though Ihave done many things which are not part of a courier's proper work.Fancy the Baron trying to borrow money of me! he is an inveterate gambler.I didn't believe it when my lady's maid first told me so--but I have seen enough since to satisfy me that she was right.I have seen other things besides, which--well! which don't increasemy respect for my lady and the Baron. The maid says she means to givewarning to leave. She is a respectable British female, and doesn'ttake things quite so easily as I do. It is a dull life here.No going into company--no company at home--not a creature sees my lord--not even the consul, or the banker. When he goes out, he goes alone,and generally towards nightfall. Indoors, he shuts himself upin his own room with his books, and sees as little of his wife andthe Baron as possible. I fancy things are coming to a crisis here.If my lord's suspicions are once awakened, the consequences willbe terrible. Under certain provocations, the noble Montbarryis a man who would stick at nothing. However, the pay is good--and I can't afford to talk of leaving the place, like my lady'smaid.'

Agnes handed back the letters--so suggestive of the penalty paidalready for his own infatuation by the man who had deserted her!--with feelings of shame and distress, which made her no fit counsellorfor the helpless woman who depended on her advice.

'The one thing I can suggest,' she said, after first speaking somekind words of comfort and hope, 'is that we should consult a personof greater experience than ours. Suppose I write and ask my lawyer(who is also my friend and trustee) to come and advise us to-morrowafter his business hours?'

Emily eagerly and gratefully accepted the suggestion. An hourwas arranged for the meeting on the next day; the correspondencewas left under the care of Agnes; and the courier's wife took her leave.

Weary and heartsick, Agnes lay down on the sofa, to rest andcompose herself. The careful nurse brought in a reviving cup of tea.Her quaint gossip about herself and her occupations while Agnes hadbeen away, acted as a relief to her mistress's overburdened mind.They were still talking quietly, when they were startled by a loudknock at the house door. Hurried footsteps ascended the stairs.The door of the sitting-room was thrown open violently;the courier's wife rushed in like a mad woman. 'He's dead!They've murdered him!' Those wild words were all she could say.She dropped on her knees at the foot of the sofa--held out her handwith something clasped in it--and fell back in a swoon.

The nurse, signing to Agnes to open the window, took the necessarymeasures to restore the fainting woman. 'What's this?' she exclaimed.'Here's a letter in her hand. See what it is, Miss.'

The open envelope was addressed (evidently in a feigned hand-writing)to 'Mrs. Ferrari.' The post-mark was 'Venice.' The contents of theenvelope were a sheet of foreign note-paper, and a folded enclosure.

On the note-paper, one line only was written. It was againin a feigned handwriting, and it contained these words:

'To console you for the loss of your husband'

Agnes opened the enclosure next.

It was a Bank of England note for a thousand pounds.