Nor had she, nor did Clarence know that his wife had found the secret too much to keep and had unbosomed herself to Bertha on the way to Pagham.
Just after dinner, while Mr. Glynne was busily engaged making preparations for his journey, Brinkley, the butler, told him that a young man who looked as though he had just come from the country wished to see Mr. Clarence.
“Show him into the library,” said Mr. Glynne.
When he entered it, he found a young man standing first on one foot and then on the other and twirling his hat nervously.
Mr. Glynne closed the library door. “What did you wish to see my son for?”
“I’ve got somethin’ private to tell him.”
“I’m sorry to say that he is very sick and can see no one. I am his father; you can tell me, and when he is in a condition to listen, I will communicate the intelligence to him.”
“If he’s sick,” said the young man, “I don’t think the news I got fer him will make him any better.”
Mr. Glynne began to think that the young man had something of importance to communicate. “Have a seat, sir. You can tell your story much better sitting than you can standing.”
The young man looked intently at the luxurious easy-chair. He was more used to a hard bench than to upholstered furniture. He finally sat down, but stood up again as he felt the springs give way beneath him.