He went slowly on, so as to pass the time, for he felt that it would be unbearable to go back to his mother’s room, and perhaps have the nurse and maid fidgeting in and out.
The result was that he almost crept along thinking, but in a different strain, for there were no more vivid pictures, his brain from the reaction seeming drowsy and sluggish. Half unconscious now of the progress of time, he sauntered on till the sight of the back of their house roused the desire to go and see if Drew were still there; and, hurrying now, he made his way round to the front, knocked, heard the chain put up, and as it was opened saw the old housekeeper peering out suspiciously.
The next minute he was in the hall, with the old woman looking at him anxiously.
“Did my mother come?” he said hoarsely.
“Poor dear lady! Yes, my dear, looking so bent and strange she could hardly speak to me; and when she lifted her veil I was shocked to see how thin and pale she was.”
“Yes, yes; but did she go up and see—”
“Mr Friend? Yes, my dear, and stayed talking to him for quite half an hour before she came down. She did not ring first; but I saw her from the window almost tottering, and leaning on the footman’s arm. He had quite to help her into the carriage. Oh, my dear, is all this trouble never to have an end?”
“Don’t talk to me, Berry; but please go down. I am going up to see my friend. He is in the drawing-room, I suppose?”
“Oh yes, my dear. He has been in and out when I have not known, and I heard him talking to himself last night. Poor young man! he seems in trouble too.”
“Yes, yes. Go down now,” said Frank hastily; and as the old woman descended, he sprang up the stairs, and turned the handle of the drawing-room door.