‘Good morning, Philip. Dr. Henley is obliged to go to Bramshaw this morning, and has had an early breakfast. Have you been out?’
‘Yes, it is very fine—I mean it will be—the haze is clearing.’
Margaret saw that he was unusually agitated, and not by grief; applied herself to tea-making, and hoped his walk had given him an appetite; but there seemed little chance of this so long were his pauses between each morsel, and so often did he lean back in his chair.
‘I am going to leave you on—on Friday,’ he said at length, abruptly.
‘Oh, are you going to Redclyffe?’
‘No; to Hollywell. Lady Morville wishes me to be her little girl’s sponsor; I shall go to London on Friday, and on, the next day.’
‘I am glad they have asked you. Does she write herself? Is she pretty well?
‘Yes; she is to go down-stairs in a day or two.’
‘I am rejoiced that she is recovering so well. Do you know whether she is in tolerable spirits?’
‘She writes cheerfully.’