Her continued illness made Hugh still more anxious to find the ring, for he knew it would please her much. Falconer would have applied to the police, but he feared that the man would vanish from London, upon the least suspicion that he was watched. They held many consultations on the subject.
A new guide.
Das Denken ist nur ein Traum des Fuhlens, ein erstorbenes Fuhlen, ein blass-graues, schwaches Leben.
Thinking is only a dream of feeling; a dead feeling; a pale-grey, feeble life.
Novalis. — Die Lehrlinge zu Sais.
For where’s no courage, there’s no ruth nor mone.
Faerie Queene: vi. 7, 18.
One morning, as soon as she waked, Euphra said:
“Have I been still all the night, Margaret?”
“Quite still. Why do you ask?”
“Because I have had such a strange and vivid dream, that I feel as if I must have been to the place. It was a foolish question, though; because, of course, you would not have let me go.”
“I hope it did not trouble you much.”
“No, not much; for though I was with the count, I did not seem to be there in the body at all, only somehow near him, and seeing him. I can recall the place perfectly.”
“Do you think it really was the place he was in at the time?”
“I should not wonder. But now I feel so free, so far beyond him and all his power, that I don’t mind where or when I see him. He cannot hurt me now.”
“Could you describe the place to Mr. Sutherland? It might help him to find the count.”
“That’s a good idea. Will you send for him?”
“Yes, certainly. May I tell him for what?”
“By all means.”
Margaret wrote to Hugh at once, and sent the note by hand. He was at home when it arrived. He hurriedly answered it, and went to find Falconer. To his delight he was at home — not out of bed, in fact.
“Who is it from?”
“Miss Cameron’s maid.”
“It does not look like a maid’s production.”
“It is though. Will you come with me? You know London ten thousand times better than I do. I don’t think we ought to lose a chance.”
“Certainly not. I will go with you. But perhaps she will not see me.”
“Oh! yes, she will, when I have told her about you.”
“It will be rather a trial to see a stranger.”
“A man cannot be a stranger with you ten minutes, if he only looks at you; — still less a woman.”
Falconer looked pleased, and smiled.
“I am glad you think so. Let us go.”
When they arrived, Margaret came to them. Hugh told her that Falconer was his best friend, and one who knew London perhaps better than any other man in it. Margaret looked at him full in the face for a moment. Falconer smiled at the intensity of her still gaze. Margaret returned the smile, and said: