Friendship sang the same note. Cecil, honest lad, had never more than the average amount either of brains or industry, and despised medicines to the full as much as did his sister. Abhorring equally the toil and the degradation, he deemed it a duty to prevent such a fall, and put his hope in his uncle. Nay, if his mother had not assured him that it was too late, he would have gone off at once to seek Sir James at his club.
Lord Fordham had been in bed long before the others returned, but in the morning a twisted note was handed to his mother, briefly saying he was running down to see how it was with them at Belforest.
When a station fly was seen drawing to the door, Allen, who was drearily leaning over the stone wall of the terrace, much disorganised by having received no answer to his letter, instantly jumped to the conclusion that Elvira had come home, sprang to the door, and when he only saw the tall figure emerge, he concluded that something dreadful had happened, grasped Fordham’s hand, and demanded what it was.
It fell flat that she had last been seen full-dressed going off to a party.
“Then, if there’s nothing, what brought you here? I mean,” said poor Allen, catching up his courtesy, “I’m afraid there’s nothing you or any one else can do.”
“Can I see your mother?”
Allen turned him into the library and went off to find his mother, and instruct her to discover from “that stupid fellow” how Elvira was feeling it. When, after putting away the papers she was trying to arrange, Caroline went downstairs, she had no sooner opened the door than Barbara flew up to her, crying out—
“Oh, mother, tell him not!”
“Tell him what, my dear?” as the girl hung on her, and dragged her into the ante-room. “What is the matter?”
“If it is nonsense, he ought not to have made it so like earnest,” said Babie, all crimson, but quite gravely.