to you, Sir Nicholas, with your supper, if they
weren't done by five; and if the young gentleman hadn't said what they
wanted."

Sir Nicholas felt sick.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Why, who but Mr. Stewart?" she said; and then fell weeping again, and
went out forgetting to lock the door behind her in her grief. Sir
Nicholas sat still a moment, sick and shaken; he knew what it meant; but
it had never come so close to him before. He got up presently and went to
the door to listen for he knew not what. But there was no sound but the
moan of the wind up the draughty staircase, and the sound of a prisoner
singing somewhere above him a snatch of a song. He looked out presently,
but there was nothing but the dark well of the staircase disappearing
round to the left, and the glimmer of an oil lamp somewhere from the
depths below him, with wavering shadows as the light was blown about by
the gusts that came up from outside. There was nothing to be done of
course; he closed the door, went back and prayed with all his might for
the young man who was somewhere in this huge building, in his agony.

Mr. Jakes came up himself within half an hour to see if all was well; but
said nothing of his dreadful employment or of Mr. Stewart; and Sir
Nicholas did not like to ask for fear of getting Mrs. Jakes into trouble.
The gaoler took away the supper things, wished him good-night, went out
and locked the door, apparently without noticing it had been left undone
before. Possibly his mind was too much occupied with what he had been
seeing and doing. And the faithful account of all this went down in due
time to Great Keynes.

The arrival of the courier at the Hall on Wednesday and Saturday was a
great affair both to the household and to the village. Sir Nicholas sent
his letter generally by the Saturday courier, and the other brought a
kind of bulletin from Mr. Boyd, with sometimes a message or two from his
master. These letters were taken by the ladies first to the study, as if
to an oratory, and Lady Maxwell would read them slowly over to her
sister. And in the evening, when Isabel generally came up for an hour or
two, the girl would be asked to read them slowly all over again to the
two ladies who sat over their embroidery on either side of her, and who
interrupted for the sheer joy of prolonging it. And they would discuss
together the exact significance of all his marks of emphasis and irony;
and the girl would have all she could do some