'Is Mr. Lawrence at home?' I eagerly asked of the servant that opened the
door.

'No, sir, master went yesterday,' replied he, looking very alert.

'Went where?'

'To Grassdale, sir--wasn't you aware, sir? He's very close, is master,'
said the fellow, with a foolish, simpering grin. 'I suppose, sir--'

But I turned and left him, without waiting to hear what he supposed. I
was not going to stand there to expose my tortured feelings to the
insolent laughter and impertinent curiosity of a fellow like that.

But what was to be done now? Could it be possible that she had left me
for that man? I could not believe it. Me she might forsake, but not to
give herself to him! Well, I would know the truth; to no concerns of
daily life could I attend while this tempest of doubt and dread, of
jealousy and rage, distracted me. I would take the morning coach from
L-- (the evening one would be already gone), and fly to Grassdale--I must
be there before the marriage. And why? Because a thought struck me that
perhaps I might prevent it--that if I did not, she and I might both
lament it to the latest moment of our lives. It struck me that someone
might have belied me to her: perhaps her brother; yes, no doubt her
brother had persuaded her that I was false and faithless, and taking
advantage of her natural indignation, and perhaps her desponding
carelessness about her future life, had urged her, artfully, cruelly, on
to this other marriage, in order to secure her from me. If this was the
case, and if she should only discover her mistake when too late to repair
it--to what a life of misery and vain regret might she be doomed as well
as me; and what remorse for me to think my foolish scruples had induced
it all! Oh, I must see her--she must know my truth even if I told it at
the church door! I might pass for a madman or an impertinent fool--even
she might be offended at such an interruption, or at least might tell me
it was now too late. But if I could save her, if she might be mine!--it
was too rapturous a thought!

Winged by this hope, and goaded by these fears, I hurried homewards to
prepare for my departure on the morrow. I told my mother that urgent
business which admitted no delay, but which I could not then explain,
called me away.

My deep anxiety and serious preoccupation could not be concealed from her
maternal eyes; and I had much ado to calm her apprehensions of some
disastrous mystery.

That night there ca