“I hope I am not behind time,” began Tom (he would no more have put his mother to inconvenience than he would the Queen, if he could help it). “I thought you would want a good long talk with Mrs. Chamberlayne, as there are so few Sundays left.”
My mother, who had evidently been on the watch for my approach, laid her hand upon my shoulder, and said gravely, “My dear, where have you been? I greatly dislike your running about in this way so late at night.”
“Don’t blame Kitty,” put in Tom, turning quickly to defend me; “it was my fault, Mrs. Chamberlayne. The night was so lovely that I persuaded her to come out for a walk.” And then I suppose he thought it was time to “settle with them,” as he called it; for he drew father a little aside, and asked him if he would be disengaged any time the following day, as he wanted particularly to speak to him.
“Certainly, certainly, my dear boy,” replied father, in blissful ignorance. “Any time after lunch that you like. You’d better come to lunch, eh?”
“I’ll come at three o’clock, or thereabouts,” said Tom, “if that will be convenient to you.”
And then they all went out to the buggy, father leading the way with Mrs. Smith, and mother monopolizing both the remaining men. I trailed after them at a respectful distance, waiting for an opportunity to say good night.
With the reins in one hand, Tom turned back and held out the other to me, before mounting into his seat. “Good night, Kitty,” he said aloud; and then, stooping his tall head, he whispered hurriedly, “Look out for me when I leave the presence-chamber to-morrow.”
“No fear,” I replied promptly. And I was very thankful, as soon as I had made use of that vulgar expression, that mother had not been near enough to hear it. My feelings were too strong for me, and it slipped out unawares.
CHAPTER V.
DESPAIR.