Sir Thomas Gourlay, on his return with the special license, was informed by the same servant who had admitted the stranger, that a gentleman awaited him in the drawing-room.

“Who is he, M’Gregor?”

“I don’t know, sir; he paid you a visit once at Red Hall, I think.”

“How could I know him by that, you blockhead?”

“He’s the gentleman, sir, you had hot words with.”

“That I kicked out one day?  Crackenfudge, eh?”

“No, faith, sir; not Crackenfudge.  I know him well enough; and devil a kick your honor gave him but I wished was nine.  This is a very different man, sir; and I believe you had warm words with him too, sir.”

“Oh!” exclaimed his master; “I remember.  Is he above?”

“I believe so, sir.”

A strange and disagreeable feeling came over the baronet on hearing these words—­a kind of presentiment, as it were, of something unpleasant and adverse to his plans.  On entering the drawing-room, however, he was a good deal surprised to find that there was nobody there; and after a moment’s reflection, a fearful suspicion took possession of him; he rang the bell furiously.

Gibson, who had been out, now entered.

“Where is Miss Gourlay, sir?” asked his master, with eyes kindled by rage and alarm.

“I was out, sir,” replied Gibson, “and cannot tell.”

“You can never tell anything, you scoundrel.  For a thousand, she’s off with him again, and all’s ruined.  Here, Matthews—­M’Gregor—­call the servants, sir.  Where’s her maid?—­call her maid.  What a confounded fool—­ass—­I was, not to have made that impudent baggage tramp about her business.  It’s true, Lucy’s off—­I feel it—­I felt it.  Hang her hypocrisy!  It’s the case, however, with all women.  They have neither truth, nor honesty of purpose.  A compound of treachery, deceit, and dissimulation; and yet I thought, if there was a single individual of her sex exempted from their vices, that she was that individual.  Come here, M’Gregor—­come here you scoundrel—­do you know where Miss Gourlay is? or her maid?”

“Here’s Matthews, sir; he says she’s gone out.”

“Gone out!—­Yes, she’s gone out with a vengeance.  Do you know where she’s gone, sirra?  And did any one go with her?” he added, addressing himself to Matthews.

“I think, sir, she’s gone to take her usual airing in the carriage.”

“Who was with her?”

“No one but her maid, sir.”

“Oh, no; they would not go off together—­that would be too open and barefaced.  Do you know what direction she took?”

“No, sir; I didn’t observe.”