But Wigham, who had been coachman in the family nearly
as many years as Lionel had been in the world, wondered much, for all
his prompt reply. He scarcely ever remembered a Verner's Pride carriage
to have been ordered for Miss Verner.

Lionel passed into the high road from Verner's Pride, and, turning to
the left, commenced his walk to Deerham. There were no roadside houses
for a little way, but they soon began, by ones, by twos, until at last
they grew into a consecutive street. These houses were mostly very poor;
small shops, beer-houses, labourers' cottages; but a turning to the
right in the midst of the village led to a part where the houses were of
a superior character, several gentlemen living there. It was a new road,
called Belvedere Road; the first house in it being inhabited by Dr.
West.

Lionel cast a glance across at that house as he passed down the long
street. At least, as much as he could see of it, looking obliquely. His
glance was not rewarded. Very frequently pretty Sibylla would be at the
windows, or her vain sister Amilly. Though, if vanity is to be brought
in, I don't know where it would be found in an equal degree, as it was
in Sibylla West. The windows appeared to be untenanted, and Lionel
withdrew his eyes and passed straightly on his way. On his left hand was
situated the shop of Mrs. Duff; its prints, its silk neckerchiefs, and
its ribbons displayed in three parts of its bow-window. The fourth part
was devoted to more ignominious articles, huddled indiscriminately into
a corner. Children's Dutch dolls and black-lead, penny tale-books and
square pink packets of cocoa, bottles of ink and india-rubber balls,
side combs and papers of stationery, scented soap and Circassian cream
(home made), tape, needles, pins, starch, bandoline, lavender-water,
baking-powder, iron skewers, and a host of other articles too numerous
to notice. Nothing came amiss to Mrs. Duff. She patronised everything
she thought she could turn a penny by.

"Your servant, sir," said she, dropping a curtsy as Lionel came up; for
Mrs. Duff was standing at the door.

He merely nodded to her, and went on. Whether it was the sight of the
woman or of some lavender prints hanging in her window, certain it was,
that the image of poor Rachel Frost came vividly into the mind of
Lionel. Nothing had been heard, nothing found, to clear up the mystery
of that past night.

CHAPTER X.

LADY VERNER.

AT the extremity of the villag