But the longer I waited, the less would she come out--to borrow the good Irishman's expression--and the Major's pillar-box, her favorite resort, was left in conspicuous solitude.

And when a letter came from Sir Montague Hockin, asking leave to be at Bruntlands on the following evening, I packed up my goods with all haste, and set off, not an hour too soon, for Shoxford.
But before taking leave of these kind friends, I begged them to do for me one little thing, without asking me to explain my reason, which, indeed, was more than I could do.

I begged them, not of course to watch Sir Montague, for that they could not well do to a guest, but simply to keep their eyes open and prepared for any sign of intercourse, if such there were, between this gentleman and that strange interloper.

Major Hockin stared, and his wife looked at me as if my poor mind must have gone astray, and even to myself my own thought appeared absurd.
Remembering, however, what Sir Montague had said, and other little things as well, I did not laugh as they did.

But perhaps one part of my conduct was not right, though the wrong (if any) had been done before that--to wit, I had faithfully promised Mrs.Price not to say a word at Bruntlands about their visitor's low and sinful treachery toward my cousin.