Crux had been started by herself, and that her master had found
no opportunity and shown no inclination to inform the family at North
Shingles that he had accepted her proposal, Mrs. Lecount was fairly
compelled to acknowledge that not a fragment of foundation remained to
justify the continued suspicion of treachery in her own mind. Looking
at the succession of circumstances under the new light thrown on them
by results, she could see nothing unaccountable, nothing contradictory
anywhere. The attempt to pass off the forged pictures as originals was
in perfect harmony with the character of such a man as Mr. Bygrave.
Her master's indignation at the attempt to impose on him; his
plainly-expressed suspicion that Miss Bygrave was privy to it; his
disappointment in the niece; his contemptuous treatment of the uncle on
the Parade; his weariness of the place which had been the scene of his
rash intimacy with strangers, and his readiness to quit it that morning,
all commended themselves as genuine realities to the housekeeper's mind,
for one sufficient reason. Her own eyes had seen Noel Vanstone take his
departure from Aldborough without leaving, or attempting to leave, a
single trace behind him for the Bygraves to follow.
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