ndeed,
some clue as to his real object; but then--why this disguise! Had he
known Tyrrell before, in his proper semblance, and had anything passed
between them, which rendered this concealment now expedient?--this,
indeed, seemed probable enough; but, was Thornton entrusted with the
secret?--and, if revenge was the object, was that low man a partaker
in its execution?--or was he not, more probably, playing the traitor
to both? As for Tyrrell himself, his own designs upon Warburton were
sufficient to prevent pity for any fall into the pit he had dug for
others.

Meanwhile, time passed on, the hour grew late, and the greater part of
the guests were gone; still I could not tear myself away; I looked from
time to time at the door, with an indescribable feeling of anxiety. I
longed, yet dreaded, for it to open; I felt as if my own fate were in
some degree implicated in what was then agitating within, and I could
not resolve to depart, until I had formed some conclusions on the
result.

At length the door opened; Tyrrell came forth--his countenance was
perfectly hueless, his cheek was sunk and hollow, the excitement of two
hours had been sufficient to render it so. I observed that his teeth
were set, and his hand clenched, as they are when we idly seek, by the
strained and extreme tension of the nerves, to sustain the fever and the
agony of the mind. Warburton and Thornton followed him; the latter with
his usual air of reckless indifference--his quick rolling eye glanced
from the marquis to myself, and though his colour changed slightly,
his nod of recognition was made with its wonted impudence and ease; but
Warburton passed on, like Tyrrell, without noticing or heeding any thing
around. He fixed his large bright eye upon the figure which preceded
him, without once altering its direction, and the extreme beauty of his
features, which, not all the dishevelled length of his hair and whiskers
could disguise, was lighted up with a joyous but savage expression,
which made me turn away, almost with a sensation of fear.

Just as Tyrrell was leaving the room, Warburton put his hand upon his
shoulder--"Stay," said he, "I am going your way, and will accompany
you." He turned round to Thornton (who was already talking with the
marquis) as he said this, and waved his hand, as if to prevent his
following; the next moment, Tyrrell and himself had left the room.

I could not now remain longer. I felt a feverish restlessness, which
impe