At any rate, Acton, with his characteristic discretion, forbore to give expression to whatever else it might imply, and the narrator of these incidents is not obliged to be more definite.
He returned home rapidly, and, arriving in the afternoon, lost as little time as possible in joining the familiar circle at Mr.Wentworth's.

On reaching the house, however, he found the piazzas empty.

The doors and windows were open, and their emptiness was made clear by the shafts of lamp-light from the parlors.

Entering the house, he found Mr.Wentworth sitting alone in one of these apartments, engaged in the perusal of the "North American Review." After they had exchanged greetings and his cousin had made discreet inquiry about his journey, Acton asked what had become of Mr.Wentworth's companions.
"They are scattered about, amusing themselves as usual," said the old man.

"I saw Charlotte, a short time since, seated, with Mr.Brand, upon the piazza.