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Elinor made no reply. Her eyes were fixed on the lovely fading panorama of life that was shifting before them. The twilight, the sunset, and the haunting magic of the miracle play still lingering with them, touched them all into sudden seriousness, and they stood silent and intent, forgetful of the whirl of pleasure and traffic that swept about them. "I declare if I ain't a firm believer in fairies after this," she said with frank affection. "There isn't anything prettier nor sweeter in the whole ball, I'll warrant!" He paused, waiting for his ward to make some reply in defense of his conduct. The young man neither moved nor spoke, but, paler than usual, he stood before the major with his eyes on the ground. More in sorrow than in anger, Jen looked at him, then turned on his heel with a shrug, and walked into the house. David looked after him with quivering lips..
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Jaggard saluted and vanished, while his master walked up and down the room, fuming at the loss of the curiosity. He had all the talk to himself, for Maurice, whose mind was busy with conjectures as to Dido or Dr. Etwald being the thief, did not think it necessary to speak. In a few minutes Jaggard returned with the news that none of the servants had been in the smoking-room that evening. Jen bent his head gravely. She followed Elinor into the larger room where a feeble daylight, filtering in through heavily grated basement windows, struggled with the flaring gas jets, and the odor of cocoa and bread and butter mingled with sachet and the fumes of turpentine and paint. "I did threaten him; but how you know--".
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