So weary was she both of her present position and of the doubt which concealed the termination of it, that she joyfully set herself to obey the parting injunction of her aunt; and having rapidly gone through this task, began her second letter to her Cheltenham friends, stating exactly all she knew, and all she did not know, and at length leaving her letter unfinished, that her postscript, as she said, might contain, according to the imputed custom of all ladies, the essential part of her letter.
The fine bonnets and smart waistcoats of Kensington Gardens, together with a bag-ful of queen-cakes, with which she had provided herself for her own refreshment and that of her companion during a promised hour of repose in one of the alcoves, so pleasantly beguiled the hours, that it was near seven before they returned to dinner; when the widow confessed herself too tired for anything more that day; and at an hour much earlier than usual Mr. Morrison took his departure, well informed, as it seemed, of the lady's intentions for the morrow, for Agnes heard him say,—
"Well, then, Mrs. Barnaby ... one more delightful excursion to-morrow—the Surrey Gardens will delight you!... and at two o'clock I will be here.... Sorry am I to think for the last time ... at least for the present." A cordial hand-shaking followed, and the door closed after him.
"I have done what you bid me, aunt," said Agnes; "all your things are got ready for you to place them as you like, and one of the boxes half filled, just as you did before.... Shall I write the directions, aunt?"
"We can do that to-morrow.... I am tired to death. Ring the bell.... No—run down yourself, for the girl looks as cross as two sticks ... run down, Agnes, and tell her to get my porter directly; and I think you must bring it to me in bed, for I can't keep my eyes open."
"Will you tell me, aunt, where we are going?" said Agnes timidly, as she took up one of the candles to light her steps down two flights of stairs.
"Don't plague me now, Agnes," was the reply; "I have told you that I am tired to death, and nobody but you would think of teazing one with such a question now. You know well enough, though you have not had the grace to thank me for it, that I never take you anywhere that it is not most delightful to go to.... What other country-girl in the world is there at your age that has had the advantages you have.... Exeter.... Clifton.... Cheltenham.... London; and if you don't provoke me too much, and make me turn you out of house and home, I'll take you now ... but it's no matter where—you'll know soon enough to be grateful, if there's such a thing as gratitude in your heart.... But I am a fool to expect it, and see you standing there when I've begged, as if my life depended upon it, that you would please to order me a little beer."
Agnes said no more; but went to bed that night with her fears most reasonably strengthened that she should not learn Mrs. Barnaby's destination till it was too late to avoid sharing it, let it be in what direction it might.