"I know my aunt will be delighted," said Miss Fitzgerald. "Won't you come into the house?" and she led the way, calling back to the Lieutenant: "I'll see they're ready. Thank you so much."
Once in the hall, she wasted no time over the unexpected, and to her unwelcome, guest, but, consigning him to the butler, sped away to give directions as to the disposition of the chests, and was soon scurrying across the park to join the patient Secretary, who had had ample opportunity to smoke his two cigars.
The Lieutenant had in the meantime shown his despatch to Lady Isabelle, whose face at once assumed an expression very much in contrast to that of her liege lord's; her brows contracted in a frown, and tears sprang to her eyes.
"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "You won't leave me now— I can't spare you. Your poor uncle Benjamin!"
"But you don't understand!" he cried. "You don't see what it means! The Steward writes that I'll inherit his property, and that I should come and protect my interests."
"But he's not dead yet—only very ill," she argued, seeing the possibilities ahead—yet hoping against hope to win her husband from his better judgment.
"It's the same thing—they wouldn't have telegraphed for me if it wasn't the end."
"But it's so far off—nearly to the Scottish border."
"That's all the more reason for hurrying. I must take the first train for London."
"And leave me!"