"I am very sorry he is going away," said her aunt. "As you know, I took to him from the first. One does not meet with such a man every day. It will be a grief to his mother to part with him."
"Yes," said Aldyth, finding it easy to respond to this remark.
Miss Lorraine talked on, discussing the event from various points of view, and apparently quite satisfied with Aldyth's brief rejoinders.
Aldyth made but a pretence of breakfasting. She was oppressed by a strange heart-sickness, which took away all the joy of her return, and robbed Duty of the bright aspect it had worn to her that morning.
"I might have known he would not stay long at Woodham," she said to herself. "He was so different from any one else I ever knew."
There were various little matters at Wyndham awaiting Aldyth's attention. She went through the business of the morning with a weight of disappointment on her mind. About noon she helped her mother to dress. Gladys, who had been long up, and had made a tour of the house under the guidance of Miss Lorraine, might have waited on her mother; but Mrs. Stanton seemed to prefer the attentions of her eldest daughter, and Gladys willingly gave place to Aldyth.
The morning had been showery, but by the time they all met at luncheon the sun seemed to have conquered the clouds, and there was the prospect of a fine afternoon.
Aldyth asked her aunt, who was about to return to Woodham, if she would like to drive in an open carriage.
"Yes, certainly; it will be much pleasanter," said Miss Lorraine. "Will you not come with me, Aldyth?"
"I do not know whether mamma can spare me," said Aldyth, looking at her mother.