She made no reply. The words would not come.
“Cold, my dear?”
“No. I feel hot and feverish.”
“Nervous anxiety, of course. But try and master it. We shall soon be home, and you can have a good cup of tea and go to bed. A good long sleep will set you right, and you will not be thinking of what a terrible deed you have committed in coming away in this nocturnal clandestine manner. That sounds grand, doesn’t it, for a very calm, sensible move on life’s chess-board—one which effectually checks James Wilton and that pleasant young pawn his son. There, there, don’t fidget about it, pray. I have been thinking, too, and asking myself whether I have done my duty by Robert Wilton’s child in bringing you away, and I can find but one answer—yes; while conscience says that I should have been an utter brute to you if I had left you to be exposed to such a scandalous persecution.”
“Thank you, Mr Garstang,” said Kate, frankly, as she held out her hand to him. “I could not help feeling terribly agitated and ready to reproach myself for taking such a step. You do assure me that I have done right?”
“What, in coming with me, my dear?” he said, after just pressing her hand and dropping it again. “Of course I do. I was a little in doubt about it at first, but my head feels clearer after my nap, and I tell you, as an experienced man, that you have done the only thing you could do under the circumstances. This night journey excites and upsets you a bit, but I’m very much afraid that some of them at Northwood will be far worse, and serve them right.”
“Poor ’Liza will be horror-stricken,” said Kate. “I wish I had begged harder for you to bring her too.”
“Ah, poor woman! I am sorry for her,” said Garstang, thoughtfully; “servants of that devoted nature are very rare. It is an insult to call them servants; they are very dear and valuable friends. But just think a moment, my dear. To have roused her from sleep and told her to dress and come with you—to join you in your flight would have seemed to her then so mad a proceeding that it would have resulted in her alarming the house, or at least in upsetting our project. She would never have let you come.”
“I am afraid you are right,” said Kate, with a sigh.
“I am sure of it, my child; but you must communicate with her at once. She must not be kept in suspense an hour longer than we can help. Let me see, I must contrive some way of getting a letter to her.—Ah, here we are.”