"Oh,—to see Mr. Peacocke?"
"I thought he'd think it unkind if I didn't look him up. He has made it all right; hasn't he?"
"Yes;—he has made it all right, I think. A finer fellow never lived. But he'll tell you all about it. He travelled with a pistol in his pocket, and seemed to want it too. I suppose you must come in and see the ladies after we have been to Peacocke?"
"I suppose I can just see them," said the young lord, as though moved by equal anxiety as to the mother and as to the daughter.
"I'll leave word that you are here, and then we'll go into the school." So the Doctor found a servant, and sent what message he thought fit into the house.
"Lord Carstairs here?"
"Yes, indeed, Miss! He's with your papa, going across to the school. He told me to take word in to Missus that he supposes his lordship will stay to dinner." The maid who carried the tidings, and who had received no commission to convey them to Miss Mary, was, no doubt, too much interested in an affair of love, not to take them first to the one that would be most concerned with them.
That very morning Mary had been bemoaning herself as to her hard condition. Of what use was it to her to have a lover, if she was never to see him, never to hear from him,—only to be told about him,—that she was not to think of him more than she could help? She was already beginning to think that a long engagement carried on after this fashion would have more of suffering in it than she had anticipated. It seemed to her that while she was, and always would be, thinking of him, he never, never would continue to think of her. If it could be only a word once a month it would be something,—just one or two written words under an envelope,—even that would have sufficed to keep her hope alive! But never to see him;—never to hear from him! Her mother had told her that very morning that there was to be no meeting,—probably for three years, till he should have done with Oxford. And here he was in the house,—and her papa had sent in word to say that he was to eat his dinner there! It so astonished her that she felt that she would be afraid to meet him. Before she had had a minute to think of it all, her mother was with her. "Carstairs, love, is here!"
"Oh mamma, what has brought him?"
"He has gone into the school with your papa to see Mr. Peacocke. He always was very fond of Mr. Peacocke." For a moment something of a feeling of jealousy crossed her heart,—but only for a moment. He would not surely have come to Bowick if he had begun to be indifferent to her already! "Papa says that he will probably stay to dinner."