“Don’t say any more, mother,” said Richard, laughing. “Good-bye.”
A Quiet Wedding.
There was just time to snatch a hasty breakfast the next morning before starting for the station, and after a short journey they mounted into the dog-cart which Humphrey had sent to meet them. By comparing times, Pratt, who had taken all the management upon himself, found that he could execute a little plan he had been hatching; and when they neared Penreife, after a chat with the groom about the preparations, he proposed to Richard that they should alight, send the vehicle on, and take the short cut by the lanes.
“If you like,” said Richard, quietly; and the sadness that had seemed to hang over him more and more as they neared their journey’s end now half unmanned him.
“I thought you’d like better to walk up to the old place alone,” said Frank, “instead of having a third person with us.”
“Thank you, Frank, thank you,” said Richard, in a voice that was husky with emotion. “It was a mistake to come.”
“No, no, a kindness to Humphrey and me.”
“I—I—thought I could stand it better, and not behave like such a weak fool,” said Richard. “There, it’s over now. Let’s get through our task, so that I may go back.”
“You must wait for me, you know, Dick,” said Frank, cheerily. “There, cheer up, old man, it isn’t for ever and a day. Try and be hopeful, and put on a bright face before the wedding folks. It’s all going to be as quiet as possible—a couple of carriages to the church and back. Your old people will be there. Say a kind word to them—there, you know how to do it.”