He lifted his face at the sound of her approaching tread and her winning voice, and the face was so sad that the tears rushed to her eyes on seeing it. She laid her hand on his shoulder, and said pleadingly, “Dear Sir Peter, what is it,—what is it?”
“Ah—ah, my dear,” said Sir Peter, gathering up the scattered sheets of Kenelm’s effusion with hurried, trembling hands. “Don’t ask,—don’t talk of it; ‘tis but one of the disappointments that all of us must undergo, when we invest our hopes in the uncertain will of others.”
Then, observing that the tears were trickling down the girl’s fair, pale cheeks, he took her hand in both his, kissed her forehead, and said, whisperingly, “Pretty one, how good you have been to me! Heaven bless you. What a wife you will be to some man!”
Thus saying, he shambled out of the room through the open casement. She followed him impulsively, wonderingly; but before she reached his side he turned round, waved his hand with a gently repelling gesture, and went his way alone through dense fir-groves which had been planted in honour of Kenelm’s birth.
CHAPTER II.
KENELM arrived at Exmundham just in time to dress for dinner. His arrival was not unexpected, for the morning after his father had received his communication, Sir Peter had said to Lady Chillingly—“that he had heard from Kenelm to the effect that he might be down any day.”
“Quite time he should come,” said Lady Chillingly. “Have you his letter about you?”
“No, my dear Caroline. Of course he sends you his kindest love, poor fellow.”
“Why poor fellow? Has he been ill?”