Mrs. Davenant stared at the fire.
Stephen smiled.
“You do not understand me, even yet, mother,” he said. “Did you ever know anything fail me?”
Mrs. Davenant shuddered, or was it the play of the fire-light?
“Never,” she said, in a low voice.
Stephen smiled again.
“I have seen this coming, have seen my way to it for months past; I have swept every barrier away——” He stopped suddenly and bit his lip—“and now for our plans, mother. Try and collect yourself; this has surprised and upset you,” he said, sharply.
Mrs. Davenant sat up and looked at him attentively.
“Tomorrow we start, without fuss or bother, for Clumley. I have ordered them to take a pair of horses to the half-way house, so that we can change without loss of time. I have also sent a letter to the clergyman telling him to be prepared for us, and keep his own counsel. We shall reach Clumley, traveling easily, by half-past ten. There will be no wedding breakfast—thank Heaven! no fuss or ceremony. We shall go straight from the church to London, and thence to Paris. Excepting ourselves and clergyman no one can know anything of the matter until the marriage is over, then——” and he drew a long breath and smiled.
Mrs. Davenant, pale and trembling, stared up at him.