Linton placed the letter in a rack upon the chimney, and for some seconds was lost in thought.
“If Lady Janet, sir, would be kind enough to receive the company,” murmured Phillis, softly.
“Pooh, man, it is of no consequence!” said Linton, roughly, his mind dwelling on a very different theme. “Let who will play host or hostess.”
“Perhaps you would come down yourself soon, sir?” asked Phillis, who read in the impatience of Linton's manner the desire to be alone, and coupled that desire with some mysterious purpose.
“Yes, leave me, Phillis; I'm going to dress,” said he, hurriedly. “Has he returned yet?”
“No, sir; and we expected him at five o'clock.”
“And it is now nine,” said the other, solemnly; “four hours later.”
“It is very singular!” exclaimed Phillis, who was more struck by the altered expression of Linton's face than by the common-place fact he affected to marvel at.
“Why singular? What is remarkable? That a man should be delayed some time on a business matter, particularly when there was no urgency to repair elsewhere?”
“Nothing more common, sir; only that Mr. Cashel said positively he should be here at five. He had ordered the cob pony to be ready for him,—a sign that he was going to pay a visit at the cottage.”