"It's all over, mother," said Marian to Mrs. Ashurst, the next morning. "Mr. Godby was right; poor Tom never rallied, and sank at seven this morning."
"God help his poor father!" said the old lady, through her tears; "he has nothing left him now."
"Nothing!" said Marian; then added, half unconsciously--"except his money! except his money!"
[CHAPTER XIII.]
LIFE AT WESTHOPE.
"Tea, my lady!"
"Very well. Tell Lady Caroline---- Oh, here you are! I was just sending to tell you that tea was ready. I saw you come in from your ride before the curtains were drawn."
"Did you? Then you must have seen a pretty draggletailed spectacle. I've caked my habit with mud and torn it into shreds, and generally distinguished myself."
"Did Mr. Biscoe blush?"
"Not a bit of it. Mr. Biscoe's a good specimen of a hard-riding parson, and seemed to like me the better the muddier and more torn I became. By the way, his wife is coming to dinner, isn't she? so I must drop my flirtation with the rector, and be on my best behaviour."