“Yes, I came very suddenly.”
Mrs. Touchett turned away as if she were looking at the condition of the grounds, which indeed was not what it should be, while Lord Warburton hesitated a little. Isabel fancied he had been on the point of asking about her husband—rather confusedly—and then had checked himself. He continued immitigably grave, either because he thought it becoming in a place over which death had just passed, or for more personal reasons. If he was conscious of personal reasons it was very fortunate that he had the cover of the former motive; he could make the most of that. Isabel thought of all this. It was not that his face was sad, for that was another matter; but it was strangely inexpressive.
“My sisters would have been so glad to come if they had known you were still here—if they had thought you would see them,” Lord Warburton went on. “Do kindly let them see you before you leave England.”
“It would give me great pleasure; I have such a friendly recollection of them.”
“I don’t know whether you would come to Lockleigh for a day or two? You know there’s always that old promise.” And his lordship coloured a little as he made this suggestion, which gave his face a somewhat more familiar air. “Perhaps I’m not right in saying that just now; of course you’re not thinking of visiting. But I meant what would hardly be a visit. My sisters are to be at Lockleigh at Whitsuntide for five days; and if you could come then—as you say you’re not to be very long in England—I would see that there should be literally no one else.”
Isabel wondered if not even the young lady he was to marry would be there with her mamma; but she did not express this idea.
“Thank you extremely,” she contented herself with saying; “I’m afraid I hardly know about Whitsuntide.”
“But I have your promise—haven’t I?—for some other time.”
There was an interrogation in this; but Isabel let it pass. She looked at her interlocutor a moment, and the result of her observation was that—as had happened before—she felt sorry for him. “Take care you don’t miss your train,” she said. And then she added: “I wish you every happiness.”
He blushed again, more than before, and he looked at his watch. “Ah yes, 6.40; I haven’t much time, but I’ve a fly at the door. Thank you very much.” It was not apparent whether the thanks applied to her having reminded him of his train or to the more sentimental remark. “Good-bye, Mrs. Osmond; good-bye.” He shook hands with her, without meeting her eyes, and then he turned to Mrs. Touchett, who had wandered back to them. With her his parting was equally brief; and in a moment the two ladies saw him move with long steps across the lawn.