She spoke not, however, and Richard ran out of the room in his wild way to see what all the servants were "making of it," as he termed it. During his absence, which did not last many minutes, words of mutual tenderness were of course uttered by the lovers; but other matters were also to be spoken of besides their young affection, and Smeaton communicated to Emmeline all that had transpired between himself and old Mrs. Culpepper, expressing, at the same time, his belief that she might be fully trusted. The evening then passed quietly for more than an hour; at the end of which time the trampling of horses and the voice of Sir John Newark were heard. He did not come into the small saloon for several minutes after he had entered the house; and, somewhat to Smeaton's surprise, neither Emmeline nor Richard Newark went out to greet him. But they knew him and his ways better than Smeaton did. The interval was occupied in speaking a few words to Mrs. Culpepper, which seemed to be rather those of inquiry than anything else; but the replies he received were apparently satisfactory, and he entered the saloon with a pleasant and half-laughing air. The whole circumstances of the evening were discussed, he gave his own version of what had occurred, both at Exeter and at Aleton, he inquired minutely into the events which had taken place at the Manor House during his absence, and he ended by saying-- "Well, Colonel, this is a fortunate escape from that which might have proved to be a somewhat unpleasant affair, and the mistake these men have fallen into regarding the flight of the Earl of Eskdale, who has never fled from them at all, will put you quite at your ease, for some time, and save you, I trust, from farther annoyance." He glanced his eye towards Emmeline and Richard, as he spoke, as if to indicate that it might be better to enter into no more particulars in their presence, and Smeaton very readily took the hint; for, to say truth, he had more confidence in Richard's kindness that in his discretion. When the two younger members of the family had retired for the night, Smeaton remained, for a few minutes, to give Sir John an opportunity of explaining himself further, but Sir John Newark did not think it necessary to say much more upon the events of that day, merely observing, in a careless and somewhat light tone-- "I hear your lady wife has quite recovered, and I suppose she may soon be expected to join you." "You are labouring under a mistake, my dear sir," replied Smeaton, at once. "I am quite wifeless." "Why, I thought," exclaimed Sir John Newark, "that your wife was mentioned between us only the other day." And he assumed, very tolerably, an air of incredulous surprise.