“Ask him what, my darling? But pray be calm. Remember what your father said.”
“Yes, yes, I remember; but ask him. No; of course he must be there. Tell Christie Bayle to come to me directly it is over—and bring my husband. Directly, mind. You will tell him?”
“Yes, yes, my darling,” said Mrs Luttrell, with her face working as she moved towards the door.
“Stop, mother!” cried Millicent. “Hush! lie still, Julie; mamma is not cross with you. Mother, tell Christie Bayle to bring me the news of the trial the moment it is over. I can trust him. He will,” she said to herself with a smile, as her mother left the room, and delivered the message to him who was below.
He left soon after, sick at heart, to join Sir Gordon, and together they took their places in the coach, the only words that passed being:
“How is she, Bayle?”
“In the Great Physician’s hands,” was the reply. “Man’s skill is nothing here.”
And she of whom they spoke lay listening to the cheery notes of the guard’s horn, the trampling of the horses, and the rattle of the wheels, as the coach rolled away, with James Thickens outside, thinking of the horrors of passing the night in a strange bed, in a strange town, and wishing the troubles of this case of Hallam’s at an end.
The next morning Millicent Hallam insisted upon rising and dressing, to go over to Lindum and be present at the trial.
All opposition only irritated her, and at last Thisbe was summoned to the room.