"O Uncle Presgrave!" exclaimed Willy, springing to his side.
The knight felt ashamed of the passion which he had shown towards a young guest, beneath his own roof. He was annoyed to think that Mr. Presgrave, while approaching the open door, must have heard all that passed between him and the boy. With a much altered tone, yet one not altogether free from traces of anger, he said, "Why, sir, this boy of yours has been confessing that he made a bonfire of two of my ten-pound notes!"
"He has kept what is better than gold," replied Mr. Presgrave, laying his hand on the shoulder of his nephew. "The bank-notes shall be replaced."
"Oh it is not the paltry money!" cried the knight impatiently. "I would not take it—it is not worth a thought! What are you all standing here for!" he exclaimed, angrily addressing the servants, who instantly retired, too glad to escape from his presence.
"Is my aunt better?" whispered Willy to his uncle.
"Ah! How is your good lady?" exclaimed Sir Hugh, glad of any change of conversation. "I hope that your coming here is a good sign of her improvement. Has her fever turned out to be typhus?"
"No, thanks be to God, it is not typhus fever; I trust that the crisis is past, that all danger is over; and as there now is no risk in the boys coming home, I shall relieve you from the trouble which you kindly undertook, and—"
"You will not take them back this evening!" cried Sir Hugh.
Mr. Presgrave glanced at the boys, and that glance was enough. "Their mother is longing to see them," he replied. "They had better, I think, walk back with me now; I will send for their boxes to-morrow."
Sir Hugh soon yielded a not very reluctant consent, and the old gentleman bade him courteously adieu. The boys shook hands with the knight and his son, but few words passed between them, and, with a feeling of unutterable relief, the young Gores found themselves on the outside of Anderdon Hall.