"I must have lost it on our journey to Oxford, I suppose," said Meredith. "It's of no consequence; there was no money in it, and nobody but myself could understand the memoranda."
The second exception was of a graver kind; it, too, arose on Meredith's part.
"I am sorry to see Margaret looking so ill," he said. "I was very much struck by her looks this evening. Has she been looking so ill as this since I saw her last?"
"No," replied James; "she has overexerted herself lately, I fancy, and she has never gotten over the shock."
"Has she not?" said Meredith quickly. "That's a very bad job; very likely to tell against her, I should think. Isn't it rather weak of her, though, to dwell so much as to injure her health on a thing that is of so little real consequence, after all?"
"I suppose it is," said James; and he seemed unwilling to say more.
But the matter had evidently made an impression on Meredith, for he said again,
"I thought her looking very ill, feverish, and nervous, and quite unlike herself. Do you think Baldwin perceives it?"
"No," said James shortly, "I don't think he does. Margaret never complains."
"Well, well, it will all be right when the heir to the Deane comes to put an end to uncertainty and fear, if she has any."