Joan took the most efficacious possible step for putting an end to further questions, for she nearly fainted away. Leo, much distressed, laid her on the sofa, and summoned the old housekeeper to his aid. Nessie presently stole in, to ask why nobody came upstairs, and was greatly concerned to find the state of affairs.
Leo and Nessie would gladly have kept Joan at the Hall for a few hours, but Joan would not hear of it. She offered no explanation of her sudden illness, and made nothing of it, seeming only desirous to get back as quickly as possible to George Rutherford. Before she was quite well enough for the drive Leo went once more for a few words with Dulcibel, whom he found in a very fractious state.
“It was too bad of Joan,” she said—“after promising to come and see her, and now to be going away without a word. But Joan never did care for her, and it was most ungrateful. Of course Joan couldn’t help fainting; but surely she could stay a little while, till well enough to walk upstairs. And where was Marian all this time? Nobody had seen Marian; and everything was upside down; and it was all extremely trying.”
Leo did his best to sympathize, and then went off in search of Marian. Quite by accident he met her outside, coming towards Dulcibel’s room. She looked inexpressibly wan and wretched, with drooping air, and heavy, reddened eyes. Leo paused, and gave her one searching glance.
“Come here, Marian,” he said, opening a door; and she followed him meekly into the little boudoir. “I want to know what has passed between you and Miss Brooke.”
“Sir?” Marian said.
“What passed between you and Miss Brooke? Something, surely—” as no answer came—“if it could cause her to faint, and you—”
Marian’s regretful start was very perceptible.
“Sir, I acted wrongly,” she said. “I acted wrongly, and I am sorry for it. But it wouldn’t make matters any better if I was to explain things to you, and I’d better hold my tongue.”
“Did you say anything about the doctor’s opinion of Mr. Rutherford?”