Some time elapsed before the announcement that the consent had been won.
“She wanted to all the while,” Edie said; “but her woman’s dignity kept her back.”
The girl was quite right, and it was only in a fit of mad despair that Myra had at last agreed in acknowledging the force of her cousin’s words.
“Percy says he thinks Malcolm is slowly dying, dear, and that your coming might save his life.”
“I’ll go,” Myra said, drawing in her breath with a hiss; and then to herself, “If he despises me for the act, well, I must bear it, too—while I am here.”
An evening was fixed, one on which Guest felt sure he would be able to catch his friend at the chambers, as being the preferable place, though, failing this, there was the lodging in Sarum Street.
There was no occasion for inventing subterfuges. The admiral that night dined at the club, and he troubled himself so little about the comings and goings of his daughter and niece that, if he returned, he would only consider that they had gone to some “at home,” and retire to his bed.
The consequence was that the carriage was in waiting at eight, and Guest arrived to act as guide.
“Strikes me, William,” said Andrews, the butler, to the attendant footman, “that our young lady would be doing more what’s right if she stopped at home.”
“Ay, she do look bad, sir.”