“I will never fail you,” he said. “There is a bond between us. You will come to me should you ever be in trouble.”
“I give you my promise,” she said.
Her eyes were overflowing with tears as she put her face up to his. He kissed her on the forehead very gently, and without speaking a good-bye turned slowly away to the little gate.
While he was in the act of unlocking it, he started, hearing a cry from the spot where they had been standing a dozen yards away.
He looked round quickly.
Agnes was being supported by a servant. He saw that her face was deathly white, and in her hand that fell limply by her side there was an oblong piece of paper. A telegraph envelope had fluttered to the ground.
He rushed back to her.
“What has happened?” he asked the servant.
“A telegram, sir; I brought it out to her—it had just come, and knew that she was out here. She read it and cried out—I was just in time to catch her. I don't think she has quite fainted, Sir Percival.”
The maid was right. Agnes had not fainted, but she was plainly overcome by whatever news the telegram had conveyed to her.