Then he had gone away, leaving those who loved the girl to make what they could out of those brief sentences.
“She is very seriously ill.”
“A great deal depends upon the nursing.”
“There is no need to give up hope.”
“She would have made a better job of the landlord business than I’ve done!” St. Quentin said to Mr. Fenton, again and again. “She cared for the people, and when I wouldn’t do my duty, tried to do it for me!”
“They are quite devoted to her in Lislehurst, and, indeed, at Loam and Styles as well,” said Mr. Fenton. “It is most touching to see the way men and women come rushing from their cottages as I pass, to ask for the latest news of her. She has won their hearts in the short time she has been among them.”
“She cared for them, and that accounts for it,” said St. Quentin. “She even cared for me, though, God knows! I gave her small cause to do so. I took her from the people whom she loved, and cut her off as far as possible from intercourse with them. I made her unhappy for my own selfish ends, and now I’m going to lose her!”
“Please God, no,” said Mr. Fenton, but his voice was not quite steady.
“I would give anything to think I made her happy——” poor St. Quentin was going on, when he was checked by the entrance of a footman.
“Mr. Chichester to see Mr. Fenton, my lord.”