,--when all these thoughts came upon me, strong and vivid, in the
darkness of night, I longed for some confidant, more experienced in
the world than myself, to advise me as to the course I ought to pursue.
Should I warn Lady Ellinor? But of what? The character of the servant,
or the designs of the fictitious Gower? Against the first I could say,
if nothing very positive, still enough to make it prudent to dismiss
him. But of Gower or Vivian, what could I say without--not indeed
betraying his confidence, for that he had never given me--but without
belying the professions of friendship that I myself had lavishly made to
him? Perhaps, after all, he might have disclosed whatever were his real
secrets to Trevanion; and, if not, I might indeed ruin his prospects by
revealing the aliases he assumed. But wherefore reveal, and wherefore
warn? Because of suspicions that I could not myself analyze,--suspicions
founded on circumstances most of which had already been seemingly
explained away. Still, when morning came, I was irresolute what to do;
and after watching Roland's countenance, and seeing on his brow so great
a weight of care that I had no option but to postpone the confidence I
pined to place in Iris strong understanding and unerring sense of honor,
I wandered out, hoping that in the fresh air I might re-collect my
thoughts and solve the problem that perplexed me. I had enough to do
in sundry small orders for my voyage, and commissions for Bolding, to
occupy me some hours. And, this business done, I found myself
moving westward; mechanically, as it were, I had come to a kind of
half-and-half resolution to call upon Lady Ellinor and question her,
carelessly and incidentally, both about Gower and the new servant
admitted to the household.

Thus I found myself in Regent Street, when a carriage, borne by
post-horses, whirled rapidly over the pavement, scattering to the right
and left all humbler equipages, and hurried, as if on an errand of life
and death, up the broad thoroughfare leading into Portland Place. But
rapidly as the wheels dashed by, I had seen distinctly the face of Fanny
Trevanion in the carriage; and that face wore a strange expression,
which seemed to me to speak of anxiety and grief; and by her side--Was
not that the woman I had seen with Peacock? I did not see the face
of the woman, but I thought I recognized the cloak, the bonnet, and
peculiar turn of the head. If I could be mistaken there, I was not
mistak