Lady Tyrrell returned a polite but brief answer, written in a hand, which betrayed, in every line, the deep and terrible emotions under which she had been lately suffering. Mr. Driesen deciphered it with difficulty, but he found that it contained a request, that he would remain at Harbury Park till the fate of its heir was decided, and take charge and cognizance of everything, as it was Lady Tyrrell's intention, as soon as she could quit her room, to go to stay with Mrs. Effingham, at the Manor House. Mr. Driesen agreed to remain, though he had notified his intention of leaving the Park on the following day; and, left alone, and in comparative idleness, he bestirred himself, with active zeal, to discover any circumstances, which might tend to throw a favourable light upon the case of Charles Tyrrell. His conduct, in this respect, and, indeed, his demeanour altogether, since the death of Sir Francis Tyrrell, had an extraordinary effect in his favour with the old servants of the house, who had previously looked upon him with a degree of dislike, bordering on contempt. They had regarded him, indeed, as assort of intrusive hanger-on, who came alone for what he could get; who looked upon Sir Francis Tyrrell's house as a very convenient abode, and who cared for none of the family in reality, but only regarded his own person. Little acts, of what they called _shabbiness_, were frequently told of him, among themselves, and not many days before the event occurred which changed the whole face of affairs at Harbury Park, one of the footmen, having used the letter which came by the post as a sort of telescope, before he delivered it to Mr. Driesen, declared, while he rubbed his hands with satisfaction, that they should soon be delivered from the old snarler, as there was a man in London threatening to arrest him. Now, however, all feelings were changed, for servants are much more acute observers than those who are acting before their eyes know. They now saw the active energy with which Mr. Driesen was labouring to collect evidence in favour of Charles Tyrrell; they saw that his whole mind was bent upon that object during the day, and they judged, and judged rightly, that he had no small regard for the young baronet, and no slight anxiety for the result of the trial. At night, too, they remarked, when he sat down to dinner, or rang for his solitary coffee, that there was a deep gloom and sadness upon a countenance, which had never before changed from its usual calm self-satisfaction, except to assume a smile, more or less, blended with sarcasm. They saw him stand long before the full-length picture of Sir Francis Tyrrell, over the drawing-room mantel-piece, and gaze upon it earnestly; and they once more judged, and judged rightly, that, however strangely he might occasionally show his feelings, and however much he might school them all away, he was naturally a man of some strong affections.