So much for the one letter which reached me to-day. The other was from Lady Denham.
I opened it then, when we were all together, but I did not read it. My eyes fell upon a familiar name, and a sudden chill and trembling warned me to desist. I am not so strong as before my accident, not so well able to master emotion. I put the letter away, and nobody remembered that I had received it.
An hour later, in the quiet of my own room, I read and re-read the four pages. They are full of kind friendliness. Lady Denham seldom favours her correspondents so far. She is noted for brevity of expression: therefore I value this the more.
One sentence above the rest touches me. It may mean so much or so little.
"You will, perhaps, be interested to learn that your old acquaintance, Captain Lenox—he will be Major Lenox immediately, I hear,—is coming to us. He forsook us quite shamefully when we went to Yorkshire, but he has written to apologise, and my son has invited him here for a week's furlough from next Wednesday. It is rather surprising that he should have leave again so soon: but it seems that he has been unwell, and we hear that he is a great favourite with the Colonel of his regiment, which may facilitate matters.
"I shall be glad to see him, for he really is a most agreeable young man. It is rather a pity that you will be away, if it would be any pleasure to you to renew the acquaintance. Of course Yorkshire is tempting still to all you young people. Captain Lenox writes that he is tired of England, and that he hopes to exchange soon into a regiment going to India or on foreign service. So I fancy this is the last time we may see him for a good while. I wonder he does not marry. He seems very much alone in the world, poor man, with so few ties in the way of relationship."
And that is all. She writes easily, not as if she in the least suspected the true state of affairs. I do not suppose that she does suspect. Sometimes I have felt that I could almost tell her all,—only never quite. For she has never sought or invited my confidence in this matter: and I cannot give confidence unasked.
Next Wednesday, for a week's furlough! That means—if we go to Glynde on Tuesday the 20th, he will be at The Park one night after our arrival.
But our journey may be delayed; or his going away may be hastened. And even if we do reach Glynde on the day named, and he is there, is it likely that we shall meet?
Hardly,—unless he wishes it.
I dread the next fortnight of suspense. But I must hold myself strongly in. No one must see what I feel. To Lady Denham I can only intimate in most general terms a polite hope or willingness to see him again. Some in my place might perhaps say more, confidentially, but I cannot.