‘I ventured to order it,’ said Phœbe; ‘I thought you might prefer it. Owen is gone. He left a message with me for you.’
Experience of former blows taught Honora to ask no questions, and to go through the offices of politeness as usual. But Lady Raymond, long a friend of hers, though barely acquainted with Mrs. Fulmort, and never having seen Phœbe before, living as she did on the opposite side of the county, took a moment for turning round to the young girl, and saying with a friendly motherly warmth, far from mere curiosity, ‘I am sure you have bad news for Miss Charlecote. I see you cannot speak of it now, but you must promise me to send to Moorcroft, if Sir John or I can be of any use.’
Phœbe could only give a thankful grasp of the kind hand. The Raymonds were rather despised at home for plain habits, strong religious opinions, and scanty fortunes, but she knew they were Miss Charlecote’s great friends and advisers.
Not till the gay crowd had been left behind did Honor turn to Phœbe, and say gently, ‘My dear, if he is gone off in any foolish way, you had better tell me at once, that something may be done.’
‘He is gone with Robert,’ said Phœbe. ‘Bertha did really see Robert. He had made a sad discovery, and came for Owen. Do you remember that pretty schoolmistress at Wrapworth!’
Never had Phœbe seen such a blanched face and dilated eyes as were turned on her, with the gasping words, ‘Impossible! they would not have told you.’
‘They were obliged,’ said Phœbe; ‘they had to hurry for the train, for she is very ill indeed.’
Honor leant back with folded hands and closed eyes, so that Phœbe almost felt as if she had killed her. ‘I suppose Robert was right to fetch him,’ she said; ‘but their telling you!’
‘Owen told me he fancied Robert had done so,’ said Phœbe, ‘and called out to me something about family claims, and a married man.’
‘Married!’ cried Honora, starting forward. ‘You are sure!’