“Take some breakfast first,” said the earl, kindly. “You look very ill and tired yourself.”
A cup of tea was brought in and he drank it hurriedly while his horse was saddled. He could not eat. Bread seemed as ashes between his lips; and then came to him a thought that, with this fever of unrest upon him—the fever of sorrow—he should not eat again.
“We must ride quickly,” said the earl. “I should not like Hermione to hear the news from any one else. This is my first trouble, Kenelm, and, believe me, it is a heavy one.”
Then came to Mr. Eyrle a remembrance of lines that had once haunted him:
Never, believe me, appear the immortals,
Never alone.
They ran through his mind until they reached Aldenmere, where sorrow in darkest guise awaited them.
CHAPTER L.
THE VOW KEPT.
Lady Hermione Alden sat in her room alone. Her children had been in with their pretty morning greetings, and had, for the first time, hurried from her, scared by the sight of that pale, stricken, haggard face.
“They say there is mercy in heaven,” she moaned. “Will that mercy be shown to me?”