But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Austin was dismissing a host of inquirers who had been attracted thither by the news,—for it had already been extensively noised abroad. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. The Pursuit 425 XXV. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it.
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