"Ah, indeed!" said Mr. Grey "and I am going home, Hubert."
There was a slight accent on the word "home" that quite unnerved poor Margaret.
"That poor child is not well," said Mr. Grey; "she distresses herself about my health; and sickness is almost the only suffering that we cannot spare our friends. Well, good bye, and may God bless you!"
The tone was so much more solemn than was common with Mr. Grey, that it seemed like a last farewell.
Hubert Gage wrung his hand in silence, and left him.
The next day they set out on their return home. Mr. Grey was perfectly happy at the idea of seeing Ashdale again. Margaret was glad of change and motion. To her uncle's anxious inquiries, she always replied that she was pretty well, and he imagined that she looked so pale from her close attendance upon himself.
As they drew near Ashdale, he greeted each familiar object with as much satisfaction as if he had been absent for years instead of weeks. Every cottage, every brook, every turn in the road, aroused his attention.
Margaret shivered as the carriage drew up before the house; she dreaded the recollections which those familiar rooms would bring to her mind. The fire was burning brightly in the drawing-room. Mr. Casement was standing on the hearth-rug. This circumstance completed Mr. Grey's satisfaction. It was really like home, with Mr. Casement at the fire-side.
Margaret trembling and shivering, and hardly able to restrain her tears, now crouched over the fire, which was as welcome to her as to her uncle.
"Holloa, little woman! you are the invalid now, it seems," said Mr. Casement, marking her altered looks.