"You think your husband has taken the child?" said Arthur, stopping suddenly.
"To-morrow, Arthur, to-morrow; before we discuss that point I must rest."
[CHAPTER XI.]
THE ACCOLADE OF KNIGHTHOOD.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial:
We should count time by heart-throbs.
And Margaret rested that night, for the first time since the evening when exhausted Nature had failed utterly and she had slept at the foot of her lost child's bed. There was a new feeling of rest and hope in her spirit; the events of the day had stimulated her; there was an uprising of the dormant courage and energy in her nature; she began to feel that something might yet be done. Jane was astonished that evening to find some small impertinence on her part rebuked by her mistress with all her old dignity, and to hear that if matters did not mend very considerably she would run the chance of losing her lodger. She was slightly alarmed, not only on this account, but also because this sudden resurrection of spirit might notify a change in her lodger's circumstances; but she kept her own counsel.
Breakfast was to be prepared for two. "Strange goings on," muttered Jane to herself, but this time she did not dare to express her feelings.
Arthur arrived early in the morning. He was excited and restless. With the impulsiveness of youth he had thrown himself heart and soul into the task that appeared to be opening out before him, and until some light had been thrown upon it he could not rest. He and Margaret breakfasted together, but by mutual consent nothing was said about the subject which engrossed them both until they had again left the house behind them, and were able to talk quietly, without need for caution, under the broad open sky.