Produced by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) THE MYSTERIOUS WANDERER. A NOVEL: BY SOPHIA REEVE. IN THREE VOLUMES. Dedicated, by Permission, _TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER._ VOL. II. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY C. PILSBURY, ANGEL-COURT, SNOW-HILL; AND SOLD BY RICHARDSON AND SON, ROYAL-EXCHANGE; J. HIGHLEY, FLEET-STREET; AND DIDIER AND TEBBETT ST. JAMES'S-STREET. 1807. THE MYSTERIOUS WANDERER. CHAPTER I. Sir Henry entertained not the least doubt of its being Ferrand who had taken Louise; nor, from his general character, but that he would endeavour to retain her, though in open defiance to the Governor's command. That he was devoid of principle or honour, he had given an indubitable proof, in his intended assassination of Harland; nor would the affair, Sir Henry apprehended, yet end without an effusion of blood. The courage of Sir Henry was cool but constant: an injury offered to himself, the benevolence of his disposition would induce him rather to pardon than resent; but this outrage to a sister he sincerely loved affected him more keenly; and he determined, should Ferrand prove the aggressor, to hazard, or even lose his life, to effect her liberation. With his mind absorbed in a labyrinth of conjectures, and plans for his procedure, he arrived at the Governor's country residence, and, on inquiring for Ferrand, was shown into a library. The East-Indian received him with a constrained civility; which, however, ceased on learning the purport of his visit: and, in answer to Sir Henry's demand, if his sister were there? he haughtily replied, he was not answerable to any one for his conduct, nor would he be questioned like a school-boy, or dictated to! "It is not my intention, Sir," said Sir Henry loftily, "to dictate to you; for my question, if you refuse to answer it, your servants, I doubt not, will give the information I want: if not, I shall proceed to the executive part of my commission." Ferrand bit his lip, and, stamping with passion, exclaimed, "What farther insults am I to receive? I have been rejected by a proud menial; my love contemned; insulted by a rival; reproved for my just vengeance, and treated as a prisoner!--and now--on what authority is the finger of suspicion pointed at me? Search the fleet; you may, perhaps, find her with some of her gallant countrymen!"