It was considerably past one o'clock, and the children's dinner was upon the table in the dining parlour before anyone in the vicarage had seen Mary Lowther since the departure of the Squire. When she left Mr. Gilmore, she had gone to her own room, and no one had disturbed her. As the children were being seated, Fenwick returned, and his wife put into his hand the note which Gilmore had left for her.
"What passed between them?" he asked in a whisper.
His wife shook her head. "I have not seen her," she said, "but he talks of speaking plainly, and I suppose it was bitter enough."
"He can be very bitter if he's driven hard," said the Vicar; "and he has been driven very hard," he added, after a while.
As soon as the children had eaten their dinner, Mrs. Fenwick went up to Mary's room with the Squire's note in her hand. She knocked, and was at once admitted, and she found Mary sitting at her writing-desk.
"Will you not come to lunch, Mary?"
"Yes,—if I ought. I suppose I might not have a cup of tea brought up here?"
"You shall have whatever you like,—here or anywhere else, as far as the vicarage goes. What did he say to you this morning?"
"It is of no use that I should tell you, Janet."