The next minute a lady’s maid came, with a similar message to Dr.
Amboyne.

He rose with great alacrity, and followed her.

There was nothing remarkable in the bride’s taking private leave of these two valued friends.  But somehow the mysterious things that had preceded made the guests look with half-suspicious eyes into every thing; and Coventry’s manifest discomfiture, when Dr. Amboyne was sent for, justified this vague sense that there was something strange going on beneath the surface.

Neither Raby nor Amboyne came down again, and Mr. Beresford remarked aloud that the bride’s room was like the lion’s den in the fable, “‘Vestigia nulla retrorsum.’”

At last the situation became intolerable to Coventry.  He rose, in desperation, and said, with a ghastly attempt at a smile, that he must, nevertheless, face the dangers of the place himself, as the carriage was now packed, and Mrs. Coventry and he, though loath to leave their kind friends, had a longish journey before them.  “Do not move, I pray; I shall be back directly.”

As soon as he had got out of the room, he held a whispered consultation with Lally, and then, collecting all his courage, and summoning all his presence of mind, he went slowly up the stairs, determined to disown Lally’s acts (Lally himself had suggested this), and pacify Grace’s friends, if he could; but, failing that, to turn round, and stand haughtily on his legal rights, ay, and enforce them too.

But, meantime, what had passed in the bride’s chamber?

Raby found Grace Carden, with her head buried on her toilet-table, and her hair all streaming down her back.

The floor was strewn with pearls and broken ornaments, and fragments of the bridal veil.  On the table lay Henry Little’s letter.

Jael took it without a word, and gave it to Raby.

He took it, and, after a loud ejaculation of surprise, began to read it.

He had not quite finished it when Dr. Amboyne tapped at the door, and
Jael let him in.

The crushed figure with disheveled hair, and Raby’s eye gleaming over the letter in his hand, told him at once what was going on.

He ceased to doubt, or vacillate, directly; he whispered Jael Dence to stand near Grace, and watch her closely.

He had seen a woman start up and throw herself, in one moment, out of a window, for less than this—­a woman crushed apparently, and more dead than alive, as Grace Carden was.

Then he took out his own letter, and read it in a low voice to Mr. Raby; but it afterward appeared the bride heard every word.

“My best friend,—­Forgive me for neglecting you so long, and writing only to her I love with all my soul.  Forgive me, for I smart for it.  I have written fifteen letters to my darling Grace, and received no reply.  I wrote her one yesterday, but have now no hope she will ever get it.  This is terrible, but there is worse behind.  This very day I have learned that my premises were blown up within a few hours of my leaving, and poor, faithful Jael Dence nearly killed; and then a report of my own death was raised, and some remains found in the ruins that fools said were mine.  I suppose the letters I left in the box were all destroyed by the fire.