“Well, it is possible that your master will write to me from London, but I wish you to impress upon him some sense of my great disappointment. He will understand why, and I shall expect a lengthy letter of explanation and particulars. You will not forget, Simmons?”
“No, madam.”
Simmons’ right hand flew up automatically in answer to Miss Nugent’s farewell nod, and the carriage rolled away.
“I cannot expect everything to fall into my lap,” she thought, “and in one sense it is perhaps lucky that the colonel has taken himself off, though his unlooked-for movements have left me completely in the dark.”
As the carriage swept round a bend in the road, Annesley Park was revealed with startling distinctness some two miles distant. The towers and minarets stood sharply against the purple sky, while a golden fire seemed to flash from every window in the light of the sun.
“If we only had a fourth of Sir Harold’s money, how happy we might be!” sighed Mrs. Nugent. “I really think that he is most unkind in not giving the Park to us while he is chasing wild beasts in Africa. I believe that such an exhilarating prospect would almost give me health again; or, at least, as much as I can ever expect to enjoy.”
Margaret laughed musically.
“Mamma,” she said, “the Park may be our home yet!”
It was a prize worth scheming for, but, to do her justice, Miss Nugent loved Sir Harold for himself alone. How impatiently she awaited the letter-bag next morning, only to be filled with a disappointment that almost amounted to dismay. There was no letter from Colonel Greyson, and she blamed herself for not insisting upon his London address. Still, it was not too late to give up hoping, and she denied herself several pleasures by remaining at home throughout the day, so that she should immediately receive any news that came.
In the evening a boy from the telegraph office delivered the following: