“Mind, you are talking of mother!” said Jock, firing up.
“I thought she felt with me,” said Armine, meekly.
“So I do, my dear; I ought to have done much better for the place, but our staying on now does no good, and only leads to perplexity and distress.”
“And when can you come, mother?” said Jock. “The house is at your service instanter.”
“I should like to go to-night, without telling any one or wishing any one good-bye. No, you need not be afraid, Armie. The time must depend on your brother’s plans. St. Cradocke’s is too far off for much running backwards and forwards. Have you any notion when you may have to leave us, Jock? You don’t go with Sir Philip?”
“No, certainly not,” said Jock. Then, with a little hesitation, “In fact, that’s all up.”
“He has not thrown you over?” said his mother; “or is there any difficulty about your exchange?”
Here Babie broke in, “Oh, that’s it! That’s what Sydney meant! Oh, Jock! you don’t mean that you let it prey upon you—the nonsense I talked? Oh, I will never, never say anything again!”
“What did she say?” demanded Jock.
“Sydney? Oh, that it would break her heart and Cecil’s if you persisted, and that she could not prevent you, and it was my duty. Mother, that was the letter I didn’t show you. I could not understand it, and I thought you had enough to worry you.”