No; there was but one hopeful measure,
one which he had even already approached in a tentative way--
an appeal, namely, to Malcolm himself--in which, acknowledging
his probable rights, but representing in the strongest manner
the difficulty of proving them, he would set forth, in their full
dismay, the consequences to Florimel of their public recognition,
and offer, upon the pledge of his word to a certain line of conduct,
to start him in any path he chose to follow.
Having thought the thing out pretty thoroughly, as he fancied, and
resolved at the same time to feel his way towards negotiations with
Mrs Catanach, he turned and rode home.
After a tolerable dinner, he was sitting over a bottle of the port
which he prized beyond anything else his succession had brought him,
when the door of the dining room opened suddenly, and the butler
appeared, pale with terror.
"My lord! my lord!" he stammered, as he closed the door behind him.
"Well? What the devil's the matter now? Whose cow's dead?"
"Your lordship didn't hear it then?" faltered the butler.
"You've been drinking, Bings," said the marquis, lifting his seventh
glass of port.
"I didn't say I heard it, my lord."
"Heard what--in the name of Beelzebub?"
"The ghost, my lord."
"The what?" shouted the marquis.
"That's what they call it, my lord. It 's all along of having that
wizard's chamber in the house, my lord."
"You're a set of fools," said the marquis, "the whole kit of you!"
"That's what I say, my lord.
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