Less than an hour later, having assured herself that Elinor lay deeply and peacefully asleep, Miss Beccles, herself conscious of being very much exhausted by the events of the morning, went downstairs with the intention of desiring Mrs. Barrow to send some tea and bread and butter to the parlor on a tray. She was brought up short by the sight of Francis Cheviot standing in the hall enveloped in his fur-lined cloak, a muffler swathed about his throat, and his hat already in his hand. He was giving Barrow some languid directions, but he turned when he heard the governess’s footsteps on the stairs and said, “Ah, I am happy to have this opportunity of addressing you, ma’am! I would not have you sent for, in case you should be ministering to poor dear Mrs. Cheviot, but I am glad you are come—very glad! And how does the sufferer find herself?”
“Mrs. Cheviot is asleep, sir, I thank you,” she replied, dropping him a prim little curtsy.
“One hoped she might be. ‘Great nature’s second course,’ you know. Upon no account in the world will I have her disturbed!”
“Oh, I should not think of doing such a thing, sir!” she said naively.
“Ah, I knew I should find you persuadable in this! And yet propriety of taste dictates that I should take my leave of her! How difficult it is to decide what one should do!”
“Are you—are you leaving us, sir?” she uttered, hardly able to believe her ears.
“Alas! With every wish to show dear Mrs. Cheviot attention, I find I cannot remain at Highnoons with any degree of comfort. My nerves are already sadly disordered, ma’am. It would not do for me to stay. I should not be the least use to my cousin.” He raised one white hand. “Yes, yes, I know what you would say! Am I wise to run the risk of exposing myself to all the hazards of a journey undertaken in this inclement weather? It is very just, but I am persuaded I ought to make the attempt. And if Crawley wraps me up well and I draw my muffler over my mouth, we must trust that no ill will result—no irremediable ill!”
She was so thankful to learn that he was indeed leaving Highnoons that she agreed to this with so much eagerness that he frowned and reminded her gently that the evil properties of the east wind could scarcely be overestimated. She said hopefully that perhaps the wind would not be found to be so very much in the east as he feared. “But you will not go without a little nuncheon, sir! Oh, dear, if it is not one o’clock already! I am sure so much has happened today I have not noticed how the time has flown! I will send to the kitchen directly!”
“You are most obliging, dear ma’am, but if I am to reach London by dinnertime I must remove at once. And I could not support the notion of dining at an inn in my present sad state of health. I could not answer for the consequences! My chaise is called for already; indeed, I cannot imagine why it is not at the door, but these fellows take a delight in dawdling, you know! I wonder if Crawley has procured a hot brick to put at my feet? Where is Barrow? Ah, he has gone to fetch the clock, as I desired him to do! Miss Beccles, I have been searching my mind to discover in what way I may serve my kind hostess, for one must wish to show every observance! That clock, which has vexed her so much by its lamentable trick of declaring the hour to want but a quarter of an hour to five o’clock! A handsome timepiece, and so like my poor Cousin Eustace to let it remain out of order! But I will have it set to rights, ma’am, and it shall be attended to by, my own clockmaker. I would not trust it to another, for some of those fellows, you know, meddle more than they mend. Pray inform Mrs. Cheviot that her clock shall be returned to her in working order as soon as I can contrive it! Ah, here is Barrow! Place it carefully inside my chaise, Barrow, if you please! You will present my most respectful compliments to Mrs. Cheviot, Miss Beccles, and of course my deep apologies for not making my adieus to her in person. She will, I trust, forgive me! That she will appreciate my anxiety to be safely in my own lodging before nightfall I cannot doubt. She has such exquisite sensibility! I am happy to think such air estimable female should have become one of my family. Ah, and dear Nicholas! Now, where is dear Nicholas? A charming boy, I am sure, if he would but outgrow his taste for savage mongrels. Barrow, you may send for Mr. Nicholas. I know he will wish to say good-by to me, and not for the world would I wound him by the smallest show of inattention!”
“Mr. Nick has gone off after the dog and won’t be back till anywhen, sir,” growled Barrow.