‘Well, it would be sheer inhumanity to leave them to themselves, and the mercies of Ratzes, and there seems to be no one else that could come.’
‘I’m glad I know!’ said Constance, with a long breath. ‘Only what shall I do if any one asks me about her?’
‘Say she had a nasty fall, which makes it undesirable to move her just yet. It is the simple truth, and what you would have naturally said but for this little communication of mine.’
‘I suppose,’ said Constance, in a tone Mrs. Bury did not understand, ‘it will be all known before my Christmas holidays?’
‘Oh yes, my dear, long before that. I’ll write to you when I have anything to tell.’
For which Constance thanked her heartily, and thenceforth felt a great deal older for the confidence, which delighted as well as made her anxious, for she was too fond of her uncle and aunt, as well as too young and simple, for it to have occurred to her how the matter might affect her brother.
After seeing much more on her road than she had done before, and won golden opinions from her escort for intelligence and obligingness, she was safely deposited in the train for Colbeam, without having gone home.
She had made up her mind to pass Sunday at her boarding-house, and was greatly surprised when Lady Adela called on Saturday to take her to Northmoor for the Sunday.
‘Now tell me about your uncle and aunt,’ the good lady began, when Constance was seated beside her. ‘Yes, I have heard from Mrs. Bury, but I want to know whether the place is tolerably comfortable.’
‘Mrs. Bury has made it much better,’ said Constance. ‘And it is so beautiful, no one would care for comfort who was quite well.’