‘Would not any one suppose he had been reading it?’ exclaimed Charles.
‘Did you know Mary Ross was gone to stay with her brother John?’ broke in Mrs. Edmonstone, in a nervous, hurried manner.
‘No is she?’ replied Philip.
‘Yes; his wife is ill.’
The universal feeling was that something was amiss, and mamma was in the secret. Amy looked wistfully at her, but Mrs. Edmonstone only gazed at the window, and so they continued for some minutes, while an uninteresting exchange of question and answer was kept up between her and her nephew until at length the dressing-bell rang, and cleared the room. Mrs. Edmonstone lingered till her son and daughters were gone, and said,—
‘You have heard from St. Mildred’s?’
‘Yes,’ said Philip, as if he was as little inclined to be communicative to her as to his cousins.
‘From Guy, or from Margaret?’
‘From Margaret.’
‘But you say there is a letter from him?’