Turning to speak to her, Lord Court saw her pallor and look of pain.
“Something is troubling her,” he thought. “She is too young, too fair to look so distressed.” Ignoring her apparent faintness, he gave his orders to the footman, and they were driven home.
Margery all that evening was quiet, almost depressed. She knew she might have remained in her own room, had she so wished, but she shrank from being left alone with her thoughts, from the confession of her own weakness; and she sat with Lady Enid, who, full of the pleasure of her drive, chatted and laughed gayly, not noticing her friend’s changed manner. But, though it escaped her, it was quickly detected by her brother, and the pale face of the young girl, the unspeakable depth of sadness in her eyes, touched him with deep sympathy. He came easily and gracefully to her rescue. He took the book from her hand when Lady Enid asked her to read, with a playful remark as to Miss Daw’s needlework progressing slowly, and he alone saw the slender figure leaning back wearily on the wide window-ledge, her work forgotten in her thoughts. He exerted himself to chat to his sister, and then, knowing that her evening was never complete without music, seated himself at the piano, and filled the room with the melody of a rich baritone voice.
Margery listened a while, then the sighing sadness of the music proved too much for her, and, stooping to kiss Lady Enid, she retired to her room.
The night hours passed slowly and heavily; she could not sleep. Her mind was haunted by the vision of two forms with the radiance of a great happiness in their eyes. Was London, then, so small that she must be tortured by their faces wherever she went? And her secret—would not that be discovered? They had not seen her to-day, but who could tell whether she might not meet them again? She felt low-spirited and disheartened for a time, then grew gradually easier in her mind. In a week, perhaps, they would leave London, and down at Court Manor she would have peace, if not happiness. Comforted by this thought, she fell asleep just as the gray dawn was breaking, her troubles forgotten for the time in dreams.
For the next three days life went on as it had before Lord Court arrived. Margery took her solitary walks in the square garden, secure from all fears there, and Lady Enid declared herself much better. As the end of the week drew near, Margery felt her heart lighten. Only a few hours more, and she would be safe for a long time!
“Have you your canvas and all the necessaries for our pictures, Nugent?” asked Lady Enid, on the afternoon of the day before that fixed for their departure.
“I have one or two little commissions to execute this afternoon,” returned the earl; “then I shall be quite prepared for work.”
“Let us go with you; it is a lovely day.”
“But the fatigue!” he said, warningly. “Remember, Enid, there is the journey to-morrow.”