"
Mr. Granger came out of his room with the lamp in his hand, and came
through the bedroom to his wife's dressing-room, looking with that stern
searching gaze of his into every shadowy corner, as if he thought Clarissa
and her baby might be playing hide-and-seek there. But there was no
one--the cheval-glass and the great glass door of the wardrobe reflected
only his own figure, and the scared nursemaid peering from behind his
elbow. He went on to the nursery, opening the doors of all the rooms as he
passed, and looking in. There are some convictions that come in a minute.
Before that search was finished, Daniel Granger felt very sure that his
wife had left him, and had taken her child away with her.
In what manner and to what doom had she gone? Was her flight a shameful
one, with George Fairfax for her companion? He knew now, for the first
time, that in the depths of his mind there had been some lurking belief in
her innocence, it was so supreme an agony to him to imagine that she had
taken a step which must make her guilt a certainty. He did not waste much
time in questioning the verbose Brobson. The child was missing--that was
quite clear--and his wife, and his wife's maid. It was some small relief to
him to know that she had taken the honest Yorkshire girl. If she had been
going to ignominy, she would scarcely have taken any one who knew her past
history, above all, one whom she had known in her childhood.
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