And what were the emotions of Mrs. Chattaway? They were of a mixed nature. In spite of the very small comfort which possession of the Hold had brought her individually; in spite of the feeling of usurpation, of _wrong_, which had ever rested unpleasantly upon her; she would have been superior to frail human nature, had not a sense of dismay struck upon her at its being thus suddenly wrested from them. She knew not what her husband's means might be: whether he had anything or nothing, by saving or otherwise, that he could call his own, apart from the revenues of the Hold: but she did know sufficient to be sure that it could not be a tithe of what was needed to keep them; and where were they to go with their helpless daughters? That these unpleasant considerations floated through her mind in a vague, confused vision was true; but far above them came a rush of thought, of care, closer to the present hour. Her brother had said--and there was determination not to be mistaken in his tones--that unless Mr. Chattaway produced Rupert Trevlyn, he would publicly charge him with the murder. Nothing but the strongest self-control had restrained Mrs. Chattaway from avowing all when she heard this. Mr. Chattaway was a man not held in the world's favour, but he was her husband; and in her eyes his faults and failings had ever appeared in a venial light. She would have given much to stand out and say, "You are accusing my husband wrongfully; Rupert is alive, and I am concealing him." But she did not dare do this. That very husband would have replied, "Then I order Rupert into custody--how dared you conceal him?" She took an opportunity of asking George Ryle the meaning of the warning despatched by Nora. George could not explain it. He had met Bowen accidentally, and the officer had told him in confidence that they had received a mysterious hint that Rupert Trevlyn was not far off--hence George's intimation. It was to turn out that the _other_ Rupert Trevlyn had been spoken of: but neither Bowen nor George knew this. George Ryle rapidly drew his own conclusion from this return of Squire Trevlyn: it would be the preservation of Rupert; was the very best thing that could have happened for him. It may be said, the only thing. The tether had been lengthened out to its extreme limits, and to keep him much longer where he was, would be impossible; or, if they so kept him, it would mean death. George Ryle saw that a protector for Rupert had arisen in Squire Trevlyn. "He must be told the truth," he whispered to Mrs. Chattaway. "Yes, perhaps it may be better," she answered; "but I dare not tell him. Will you undertake it?" He nodded, and began to wonder what excuse he could invent for seeking a private conference with the newly-returned Squire. But while he plotted and planned, Maude rendered it unnecessary.