Redclyffe, apparently, had not communicated to his agent in London his
change of address, when he left the Warden's residence to avail himself
of the hospitality of Braithwaite Hall; for letters arrived for him, from his own country, both private and with the seal of state upon them; one among the rest that bore on the envelope the name of the President of the United States. The good Warden was impressed with great respect for so distinguished a signature, and, not knowing but that the welfare of the Republic (for which he had an Englishman's contemptuous interest) might be involved in its early delivery at its destination, he determined to ride over to Braithwaite Hall, call on his friend, and deliver it with his own hand. With this purpose, he mounted his horse, at the hour of his usual morning ride, and set forth; and, before reaching the village, saw a figure before him which he recognized as that of the pensioner. [Endnote: 1.]
"Soho! whither go you, old friend?" said the Warden, drawing his bridle
as he came up with the old man.
"To Braithwaite Hall, sir," said the pensioner, who continued to walk
diligently on; "and I am glad to see your honor (if it be so) on the
same errand."
"Why so?" asked the Warden. "You seem much in earnest. Why should my
visit to Braithwaite Hall be a special cause of rejoicing?"
"Nay," said the pensioner, "your honor is specially interested in this
young American, who has gone thither to abide; and when one is in a
strange country he needs some guidance. My mind is not easy about the
young man."
"Well," said the Warden, smiling to himself at the old gentleman's idle
and senile fears, "I commend your diligence on behalf of your friend."
He rode on as he spoke, and deep in one of the woodland paths he saw
the flutter of a woman's garment, and, greatly to his surprise, overtook Elsie, who seemed to be walking along with great rapidity, and, startled by the approach of hoofs behind her, looked up at him, with a pale cheek.
"Good morning, Miss Elsie," said the Warden. "You are taking a long
walk this morning. I regret to see that I have frightened you."
"Pray, whither are you going?" said she.
"To the Hall," said the Warden, wondering at the abrupt question.
"Ah, sir," exclaimed Elsie, "for Heaven's sake, pray insist on seeing
Mr. Redclyffe,--take no excuse. There are reasons for it."
"Certainly, fair lady," responded the Warden, wondering more and more
at this injunction from such a source. "And when I see this fascinating
gentleman, pray what message am I to give him from Miss Elsie,--who, moreover, seems to be on the eve of visiting him in person?"
"See him! see him! Only see him!" said Elsie, with passionate
earnestness, "and in haste! See him now!"
She waved him onward as she spoke; and the Warden, greatly commoted for
the nonce, complied with the maiden's fantasy so far as to ride on at a
quicker pace, uneasily marvelling at what could have aroused this
usually shy and reserved girl's nervousness to such a pitch. The
incident served at all events to titillate his English sluggishness; so
that he approached the avenue of the old Hall with a vague expectation
of something that had happened there, though he knew not of what nature
it could possibly be. However, he rode round to the side entrance, by
which horsemen generally entered the house, and, a groom approaching to
take his bridle, he alighted and approached the door. I know not
whether it were anything more than the glistening moisture common in an
English autumnal morning; but so it was, that the trace of the Bloody
Footstep seemed fresh, as if it had been that very night imprinted
anew, and the crime made all over again, with fresh guilt upon
somebody's soul.
When the footman came to the door, responsive to his ring, the Warden
inquired for Mr. Redclyffe, the American gentleman.
"The American gentleman left for London, early this morning," replied
the footman, in a matter-of-fact way.
"Gone!" exclaimed the Warden. "This is sudden; and strange that he
should go without saying good by. Gone," and then he remembered the old
pensioner's eagerness that the Warden should come here, and Elsie's
strange injunction that he should insist on seeing Redclyffe. "Pray, is
Lord Braithwaite at home?"
"I think, sir, he is in the library," said the servant, "but will see; pray, sir, walk in."