The next week was spent by Chatterton in bidding his friends good-bye, presenting some young ladies of his acquaintance with gingerbread, the boyish side of his nature coming to the front, and with it a loving tenderness to his mother and sister.
Full of hope since the money had been collected for him, and glad to be turning his back on Bristol, Chatterton was in one of his most winning moods.
The soft spring weather had changed, cold winds blew, and instead of soft April showers hail fell, blown in little heaps along Dowry Square by the breath of the keen north-west wind.
Bryda was standing by the parlour window, looking out into the square, just before dinner was served on Sunday.
It was somewhat of a relief to her to think Jack would not come to-day, or, if he came, she could make the excuse of cold and a headache and decline to take a Sunday stroll.
The remembrance of poor Jack's sad face as they parted haunted her, and she said to herself she wished she had been kinder to him, and she wished, oh! how she wished he had loved Betty instead of her. Bryda had written to Betty as she had determined, and sent the letter by the carrier, folded in thick paper and fastened by a string. The post in the rural districts was very irregular in those days, and the carrier's charge for delivering a parcel was even less than the postage of a letter. Bryda wondered she had received no answer yet from Betty. She had told her to reply on the return of the carrier on Saturday, and she knew that if the letter was left at the office in Corn Street she would be sure to get it on Saturday evening.
But no reply had come. Bryda had spoken to Mr Lambert that morning about the affairs at Bishop's Farm, and he had advised that before the Squire could take any decided steps an appraiser, in the old man's interests, should be dispatched to the farm to value the stock and the furniture, and find out how far it would cover the debt and the expenses.
'I must wait till I hear from my sister,' Bryda had said. 'I dare not take them by surprise; it would frighten poor grandfather, and upset him again. I hope Betty will soon answer my letter.'
'Well,' Mr Lambert had replied, 'young ladies must please themselves, as they take care to do; but if I might presume to advise, I should say accept the Squire's proposal. I should have thought he was a likely fellow to gain a fair maiden's favour.'
Bryda had no reply to make to this, and now, as she stood looking out on the square, she saw a boy crossing it and looking at the houses, as if uncertain at which to stop. Presently he came up to the door and rang the bell, giving also a great thud with the knocker. The footboy hastened up to open the door, and Bryda, going into the passage, heard her name.