She looked at the flushed face and the fire smoldering in his eyes, and then at Lord Charles, who jingled the money in his pocket, and whistled softly, with an air of pure abstraction.
"What is it?" she asked, and an unusual look of trouble and doubt came into her eyes.
"Nothing that need trouble you, mother," he said. "I shall be back—" he stopped; when should he be back?—"soon," he added.
Then he stooped and kissed her.
Lady Wyndward looked up into his eyes.
"Don't go, Leycester," she murmured.
Almost roughly, in his impatience, he put her arm from him.
"You don't know what you ask," he said. Then in a gentle tone he said "Good-bye," and sprang into the cart.
The horse rose for a moment, then put his fore feet down and went off like a rocket under the sharp cut of the whip, and Lady Wyndward, with a sigh of apprehension, turned to where Lord Charles had stood.
Had stood; for he had seized the moment of departure to steal off.